‘Dreadfully untidy, is it not? Can’t abide bare rooms. Something about this woman rather reminds me of our hostess. That shining slope of snow, and how we talked of death! We might have died! Even when we are old, when we are rich as we may be, we won’t forget the tune when we cared nothing for anything but the joy of one another, when we risked everything for one another, when all the wrappings and coverings seemed to have fallen from life and left it light and fire. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue. It seemed to her the last desperate attack upon the universe that would not let her live as she desired to live, that penned her in and controlled her and directed her and disapproved of her, the same invincible wrappering, the same leaden tyranny of a universe that she had vowed to overcome after that memorable conflict with her father at Morningside Park. “I’ve broken off my engagement,” she said, in a matter-of-fact tone, and found her heart thumping in her neck.
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