214 < 27 > REVELATION IN THE CORNFIELD “This is my favorite thing. Perhaps she might never come back to that breakfast-room again. Here, Peter," he added to a curly-headed lad, who was playing on one of the grassy tombs, "ask your father to step this way. It’s no half reform either. 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. Light flooded the place. He remained standing by the stem of the proa, his glance roving investigatingly.
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