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Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950

"A Spirit in Prison"

He was too delicate to do that, for
instinctively he understood how childish his Padroncina still was.
And, at that moment, Vere did not think of Ruffo. She wondered a
little what Gaspare was thinking. That there was some special thought
behind his words, prompting them, she knew. But she did not ask him
what it was, for already they were at the islet, and she must run in,
and put on her clothes. Gaspare put her cloak carefully over her
shoulders, and she hurried lightly up the steps and into her room. Her
mother was not in the house. She had gone to Naples that day to see
some poor people in whom she was interested. So Vere was alone. She
took off her bathing-dress, and began to put on her things rather
slowly. Her whole body was deliciously lulled by its long contact with
the sea. She felt gloriously calm and gloriously healthy just then,
but her mind was working vigorously though quietly.
A woman! The word sounded a little solemn and heavy, and, somehow,
dreadfully respectable.


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