She could hear their footsteps upon the pavement. She would be haunted by the visions of their mad faces in her dreams for the next hundred years. He leaned towards her as though anxious to see more of her face than that faint delicate profile gleaming like marble in the uncertain light. “A confusion of motives—that’s what I am!. She remained stonily in the middle of the hallway until the spinsters' door shut them from view … for ever. "At a thought. Roused by the bell tolling for evening service, Jack left the house. She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. She’s got a great imagination.
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