The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. But do not awaken my apprehension, unless you have good cause for so doing. . Where was this kindly world she had drawn so rosily in fancy? Disillusion everywhere. And a custom had grown up of a general tea at four o’clock, under the auspices of a Miss Garvice, a tall and graceful girl of distinguished intellectual incompetence, in whom the hostess instinct seemed to be abnormally developed. She would often steal away to tryst with him in the orchard, even now she felt her loins grow warm with the memory of his ardor. Day by day she followed the spiritual and physical contest between this man and woman. “Let me help you,” he begged. “She can’t. Spurlock, filled with self-mockery, sat in a chair on the west veranda. ” Michelle said, tossing her glossy ponytail defiantly.
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