I’ve thought that out, and you must make up your mind to it. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights. It's a sorry world," he went on. . . Horrible memories of things seen beneath the microscope of the baser forms of life crawled across her mind and set her shuddering with imagined irritations. Many a black veil hid a high-born dame, and the religious habit was no protection. She could not look at him through an interval that seemed to her a vast gulf of time.
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