It was as if the Devil himself had raped and defiled her mother. But although startled and clearly afraid, there was no self-consciousness in her gaze and she was standing her ground. “Of course,” she said diffidently, “this is a boarding-house, although we never take in promiscuous travellers. I love you all the more for the streak of sheer devil in you. He was entranced as she walked towards him. We can love on a snow cornice, we can love over a pail of whitewash.
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