“If you come a step nearer to me,” she said, “I will smash every glass on this table. How she had hated it!… All these mumblings which were never explained, which carried no more sense to her brain than they would have carried to Old Morgan's swearing parrot. "Now—begin. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. ‘And so you sneak back,’ she threw at him, ‘like the jackal that you are. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. As his eyes adjusted, he was able to make out the great shrouded shapes of the furniture. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. "I have dreamed that I shall see him before I die," she rejoined. While waiting for his coming she had stated her present and future relations with him with what had seemed to her the most satisfactory lucidity and completeness.
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