” She paused. . He breathed heavily, as though he had been running. En tout cas, why had he not returned? She pondered the question as, later, she paced about her favourite retreat. “It’s the stir of spring,” he said. She wondered wildly why she had stood up. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. But one was clearly the goddess among them, her face hidden, her body seeming to call out to me to possess it at once.
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