Anna turned deliberately away from the bedside. It might have been the moon, or the phosphorescence of the broken water, or it might have been his abysmal loneliness; but suddenly he caught her face in his hands and kissed her on the mouth. I sent a message straight. “I don’t want you to do it, to go on talking to me. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. The latter formed by far the most knavish-looking and unprepossessing portion of the assemblage. But I shan’t try to stop you. We felt like thieves.
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