And all the talk of the Miniver people and the Widgett people seemed always to be like a ship in adverse weather on the lee shore of love. She fell into a deep delirium, whispering hoarsely to her dead mother, cursing God in Heaven, cursing her doctor, cursing herself as apparitions of devils and demons pulled at her with yellow ochre hands. From then until four in the afternoon there was nothing to do—the whole island went to sleep. For a moment she thought of saying yes, and then filled with shame. The pleasure intensified quickly, it was as much control as she dared to lose as she heard herself calling his name with all her breath. "You will act most in accordance with her wishes, could she dictate them, by compliance. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard.
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