"I'll go to her directly," said Wood, bustling towards the door. ” “And what do you think I ought to do?” “Exactly!” He lifted a paper-weight and dabbed it gently down again. They found out Cris had some sort of criminal past, more child abuse stuff of course. In spite of God and wasps and her father, she had stolen plums; and once because of discovered misdeeds, and once because she had realized that her mother was dead, she had lain on her face in the unmown grass, beneath the elmtrees that came beyond the vegetables, and poured out her soul in weeping. No matter what the fire and force of his passion, it falters eventually, and forever after smoulders or goes out. For a while he threatened her. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. Jackson smiled and put on the air of a man who knows more than he cares to tell. But it is all very different. And, yet, I don't know. The two great hotels on their right were still ablaze with lights. .
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