Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. But think of the disillusionment! Except for our sex we have minds like men, desires like men. It would be too mortifying. “My sister and I,” she said slowly, “have seen very little of each other lately. I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. I have been dreaming of your body and you night after night.
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