She sat down awkwardly and helplessly on one of the little stools by her table and covered her face with her hands. He uttered a deep groan, but said nothing. And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort. The slow stars circled on to the moment of their meeting. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. At the same time she was wildly exultant at the resolution she had taken, the end she had made to her blunder.
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