Something, then, to appease the wrath of God; something to blunt this persistent agony. She saw herself building up a life upon that —a life restrained, kindly, beautiful, a little pathetic and altogether dignified; a life of great disciplines and suppressions and extensive reserves. She saw his purpose and his doubt hesitated also, and then went to him, took his coat lapels, and kissed him on the cheek. I don’t want to tear at you with hot, rough hands. ‘I rather gathered as much,’ said Miss Froxfield, releasing her hands.
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