He looked about for his hat, and put it on. But he dismissed that because then she would ask her lover and not him all these things. She hated it, she hated the mission-house; she hated the sleek lagoon, the palms, the burning sky. The sidewalk resonated with the pounding of cold rain by the time she left the building. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. Every day in the year you will witness such scenes.
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