“Aunt!” she said, “I can’t—” Then she caught a wild appeal in her aunt’s blue eye, halted, and the door clicked upon them. “Touch a hair on his head and you will insure that I will never make love to you again. He sat down on the sill of the open window, folded his arms, and stared straight before him for a long time over the wilderness of tiles and chimney-pots into a sky that was blue and empty. But it was only six-thirty. “But, how,” he said, sitting up astonished beyond measure, “not go on?” “I have been thinking while you have been talking. Sampans with fish and fruit and vegetables swarmed about, while overhead gulls wheeled and swooped and circled.
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