Her two new friends did their best to entertain her. It seemed as if each time her imagination reached out investingly, an invisible lash beat it back. His technique had gained much subtlety over the years. “Stop,” he said. She ran to the lamp and extinguished it. Shamefaced curiosities began to come back into her mind, thinly disguised as literature and art. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the preceding division of this history. And she did not merely affect to be driven—she felt driven. Though not much passed the middle term of life, he seemed prematurely stricken with old age.
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