Quilt's manner, indeed, was that of a man endeavouring to muster up sufficient resolution for the commission of some desperate crime. It is not every sort of creature needs—these males. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. It was scarcely likely that she would have accepted his aid. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge.
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