S. While this was going on, Blueskin, seeing no notice whatever taken of him, coughed loudly and repeatedly. ’ ‘You should be happy that you are not dead,’ she retorted, but with a diminution of the venom and fright in her voice. He sent me flowers. It’s wrong in the eyes of most people. Wanton!… This, then, was what her father had meant. It penetrated the skin; benumbed the flesh; paralysed the faculties. 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. When I went I was refused admittance. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. We have only those phantoms called memories, which are the husks of dreams.
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