The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed. When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. She was breathing hard, dragging for air, half in fright and half because the sudden effort had used up what little air she had managed to draw so briefly. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud.
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