Before leaving the place he looked upwards, and could just discern the blue vault and pale stars of Heaven through an iron grating at the top. After all, you may easily come to fetch Mrs Ibstock when you need her. It’s the poor dears who do, who know they will, know they can’t keep it up, who need to clutch at way-side flowers. ‘But there is something still I do not understand. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment.
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