It was only some hours after that these ambiguous elements evaporated and vanished and loathing came, and she really began to be thoroughly sick and ashamed of the whole disgraceful quarrel and scuffle. You poor man, what have you been doing to yourself?” “Nothing except travelling all night,” he answered. But she had loved the man. She could run away from him, if she wished, as she had run away from her father; she could carry out the original adventure. There was a strip of old rose brocade in the making that set an ache in the girl's heart for the want of it. She had changed into dungarees herself and kept her hair as it was. Take care of the old clothesman, and leave the rest to me. He's down in Patagonia somewhere. I saw them both.
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