Spurlock has gone. In each corner stood a stout square post reaching to the ceiling. She cried out his name in ecstasy. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. She kissed him with a closed mouth, not as recklessly as she was tempted to do. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. He looked at her, his eyes filled with excited terror and astonishment at her move.
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