I’d take it— forgive me if I seem a little urgent—as a sort of proof of friendliness. That is good. “Look here,” he said, “I brought you here to make love to you. Unobserved, she knelt and kissed the threshold: for she knew what kisses were now. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. With people of that sort all sorts of things may happen. “I thought every one had heard,” said Miss Klegg. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. The glass in the windows was broken—the roof unthatched—the walls dilapidated. The floor was strewn with screws, nails, fragments of wood and stone, and across the passage lay the heavy iron fillet.
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