The female’s words caught at his attention, and he no longer heard what the young Poussaint girl was saying to him. “I will make of the days and weeks one long morning, but remember the afternoon must come. To—to find myself. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. . They are things faint and slight in themselves, as physical facts, but they are like the detonator of a bomb: they let loose the explosive. Nevertheless, she could not prevent a rising excitement as the dawn of the new life drew near to her—a thrilling of the nerves, a secret and delicious exaltation above the common circumstances of existence.
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