The note-passer lagged behind with her. Presently her aunt sighed deeply and looked at the clock. It presented itself in the likeness of a great, gray, dull world—a brutal, superstitious, confused, and wrong-headed world, that hurt people and limited people unaccountably. She would never again be lonely. But when it came to broaching them, it proved to be much more difficult than she had supposed. She hoped that he would at long last remember his young male pride. ‘I’m damned if I see what you have to complain of,’ uttered Charvill, a faintly bewildered note underlying his irascibility. Kneebone, who did not appear in the slightest degree disconcerted by his cool reception, each sank carelessly into a chair, and made himself at home in a moment. That register would be easy to get at; comforting thought. “Yes,” he said, “I want to get away. Jonathan nodded assent.
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