He regretted— more deeply than he could say—the occurrence of this evening. Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. Then, after Capes had been through her work and had gone on, it came to her that the fabric of this life of hers was doomed to almost immediate collapse; that in a little while these studies would cease, and perhaps she would never set eyes on him again. She leaned over and kissed his cheek innocently. He knocked on the doorframe. 8 or 1.
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