Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. As Gosse pushed her around it, she felt his hold about her of necessity loosen slightly. Looked all over that dratted convent of yours—or at least Trodger and the men did so—but no sign of them. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it. They could no longer stay in one place. He leaned forward to embrace her. She recalled that day of the typhoon and the sloop crashing on the outer reefs. She did not know herself.
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