In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. " "No. They could not go on. Better come another morning. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. A gaunt, powerful man: no feature of his face decided, and yet for all that it had the significance of a countenance hewn out of rock. It had been a trying day. And when I ask you why it is you do so, you have no answer. Lucy’s guts ached with jealousy and bitterness, building in a knot that twisted in her stomach, rag-like. The coachman having received his order, and being offered an extra fare if he drove quickly, set off at full speed. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret. “Too much sensibility and too cold a heart.
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