And Rollo, who had been waiting for some encouraging sound, presented himself at the doorway. No matter how swiftly he pursued this riddle, he could not bring it to a halt. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. There were so many things about her which he could not understand. When she occupied, it, it was neatness itself; the little porch was overrun with creepers—the garden trim and exquisitely kept.
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