“He dissembles,” he said. The word "criticism" had no concrete meaning to her then; no more than "compromise. It was dawn: Cathy would soon be off to the restaurant and Larry off to paint a house. “I don’t know whether I shall go on,” said Gwen, a novel note of languorous professionalism creeping into her voice. ’ ‘Tchah!’ He glared at her. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her. It had seemed to her that life might be very good indeed with his kindliness and sacrifice about her. .
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