She had been fighting down this thought for days: that Hoddy did not care, that he did not love her, that he had mistaken a vagary of the mind for a substance, and now regretted what he had done— married a girl who was not his equal in anything. I fancy that this is a little more than playing at Bohemianism. I feel that I shall stifle unless I can do something—and do something soon. Deep verandas ran around the bungalows, with bamboo drops which were always down in the daytime, fending off the treacherous sunshine. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. “Good evening, Dorling,” he said. People shrug their shoulders and call me a crazy socialist.
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