When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr. ‘It is the life I know. ’ She turned, her eyes narrowed. ‘Didn’t mean it, love. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. He was not addicted to monologue, and the only audible comment he permitted himself at first upon a universe that was evidently anything but satisfactory to him that afternoon, was one compact and entirely unassigned “Damn!” The word must have had some gratifying quality, because he repeated it. ‘You and Jarvis Remenham both, yes. She was in a very uncritical state that afternoon. “That thing’s going on,” she told herself. “I just came to you and put myself in your hands. None presented themselves to save him from that return. There was no point in rushing into the long walk home. And there are other guides. His ideas about girls and women were of a sentimental and modest quality; they were creatures, he thought, either too bad for a modern vocabulary, and then frequently most undesirably desirable, or too pure and good for life.
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