He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. Looking sullen, he released the handle and sat back. It was not possible for him to have been deceived. "I leave this bowl for you," he cried, returning it to the landlord untasted. I am quite clear about this. The joy of being loved thrilled her as nothing before had ever done, a curious abstract joy which had nothing in it at that moment of regret or even pity. And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort.
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