" "Impossible!" cried Jonathan. “And as for praying for faith—this sort of monologue is about as near as any one of my sort ever gets to prayer. She frowned and gripped her hands about her knees very tightly. He knew very well that his muscles were flabby, and his nerve by no means what it should be. Her hair touched water, becoming like the seaweed in its velvet slickness. But with the morning, the glorious unstained morning the passion of living would stir even the blood of a clod. And she had been doubting since that walk in the Zoological Gardens whether, indeed, he did simply care for her.
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