There was another little thing he had to say. “We can,” he said, “and we will. In the twilight he had ceased to be a person one could tackle and shame; he had become something more general, a something that crawled and sneaked toward her and would not let her alone. The rainstorm, short-lived, began to subside. It may be treacherous, it may lay up a store of future woe; but it insures present happiness, and that is sufficient. There was a brief pause, a crowded pause, between them.
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