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However, confession of a fault makes half amends for it. Her mind turned to her own future, the endless trickle of years. They went to the Zoological Gardens together one Saturday to see for themselves a point of morphological interest about the toucan’s bill—that friendly and entertaining bird—and they spent the rest of the afternoon walking about and elaborating in general terms this theme and the superiority of intellectual fellowship to all merely passionate relationships. He liked to be near me, he liked to be near any female, especially a young female. Lucy's ears were singing. “We sent for you several hours ago,” he remarked. One particularly humiliating thing came out— humiliating for me. Lucy’s cool. Melusine tapped on it. The Trenchard estates will likewise be mine, for Sir Rowland is no more, and the youth, Thames, will never again see daylight. Her little bedsitting-room was like a lair, and she went out from it into this vast, dun world, with its smoke-gray houses, its glaring streets of shops, its dark streets of homes, its orange-lit windows, under skies of dull copper or muddy gray or black, much as an animal goes out to seek food.
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