That’s really what I want to discuss. Once in the room, the door locked, the sense of loneliness had dropped away from her as the mists used to drop away from the mountain in the morning. A fortnight passed, then a month. “When can we be alone together?” She asked him, never loosening her grip. I will give you a broad free life. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. To-night all this may seem hard and cruel.
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