The crowning aspect of the incident, for her mind, was the discovery that he and her indiscretion with him no longer mattered very much. "I didn't carry you off from old Wood to kill you, but to wed you. Some day I'm going to paint her; but that will be when I've retired. That blow made me a thief. The recollection of the forlorn and loveless years—stirred into consciousness by the unexpected confrontation—bent her as the high wind bends the water-reed.
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