By and by—as the paroxysm subsided and he became motionless—she stole back to the bungalow to wait. . It was long and narrow, a well-lit, wellventilated, quiet gallery of small tables and sinks, pervaded by a thin smell of methylated spirit and of a mitigated and sterilized organic decay. . She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. You would be alarmed of how sulphurous it is, how sickeningly sweet. ” She felt, with a sudden horror, that she might weep.
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