" The girl's eyes filled. ‘Small wonder in a way that he found hisself consolation elsewhere. A few bricks, dislodged probably by his last descent, came clattering down the chimney, and as it was perfectly dark, gave him the notion that some one was endeavouring to force an entrance into the room. He and his friends (he had at least two per class, even in Trigonometry) would make their exits as quickly as possible. It was in another world from that in which men will die for a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance, the world of passionately beautiful things. Sometimes I think you would have been much better off if you had been born in death-worshipping Egypt instead of in the Fourteenth Century. She would come and sit cross-legged just beyond the bamboo curtain and silently watch him at work. She had viewed them askance, and without exchanging ideas with any one else in the world about them. "Go to your own room, woman, directly, or I'll make you!" "Make me!" echoed Mrs. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. They are not your flowers. The perception of him flooded her being. I'm not interested in him.
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