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bowl of curds and cream interposed intrusively on the table between them.
Alice recovered herself with a great effort, rose from the table, and walked over towards the parapet.
“I can’t,” she murmured, almost with a sob. “I have put my hands to the plough, and I must go on.”
“Very well, we will say no more about it. It is time for us to be starting. I will go and look after the horses, and bring them round in a few minutes.”
He did not look at her again, and Alice remained standing on the terrace alone, gazing absently at the beautiful ocean scene before her. The afternoon was deepening, and the azure of the distant sea was almost unearthly in its purity. Nearer to the land long stripes and shadows of green and purple floated in with the shadows of the cliffs, and in the west a long ladder of sunshine rose step after step through the clouds. But all the joy had faded out of the afternoon. A thin wall of ice seemed slowly building up round her, shutting out the pleasant everyday world of cloud and sunshine, and she could have exclaimed with the poet:
A power is gone which nothing can restore;
A deep distress has humanized my soul.”