The street lamps glowed like ripe oranges among the bare boughs. Below in the wet street their globes glimmered down and down, to drown in their own reflections.
Yes," I answered you last night;"No," this morning, sir, I say.Colours seen by candlelightWill not look the same by day.
The car whispered up the slope and nosed quietly out above the trees. He was driving like a careful insult.
Kissing me with a violence that was terrifying and yet, somehow, the summit of all my tenderest dreams.
I remember thinking with a queer detached portion of my mind that here was someone wringing her hands. One reads about it and one never sees it, and now here it was.
I knew that I had turned my world back to cinders, sunk my lovely ship with my own stupid, wicked hands.