” “It was a delightful piece of good fortune that I should have met you,” he answered. She asked no further questions for the moment. Hitherto it had been qualified by her conception of all life as a compromise, by her new effort to be unexacting of life. The night was clear and moonlit, dazzling with even light blue shadows that shone into manicured lawns and pristine gardens. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament. ‘Troops?’ ‘Go, man,’ urged the major in an undervoice.
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