The idea that he held in his arms the girl whom he had once so passionately loved, and for whom he still retained an ardent but hopeless attachment, almost overcame him. I begin to understand Jane Austen and chintz covers and decency and refinement and all the rest of it. “Ass!” he went on, still warming. She wrapped her legs about his hips as he raised himself upon straight arms, piercing her with his gaze as he thrust into her. Brendon and Courtlaw who had been watching for her, met her at the door. All these circumstances,—slight in themselves, but powerful in their effect,—touched the heart of the widowed carpenter, and added to his depression. Through one doorway she saw a grave Chinaman standing on a stage-like platform.
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