It seemed to her that it was her duty to get up and clamor to go home to her room, to protest against his advances as an insult. She sensed he might try and wane on her doorstep. Vorsack echoed him. He could have easily forced it, but preferred a more expeditious mode of reaching the roof which suggested itself to him. “But what are you going to do?” asked Hetty. His attraction for her was now written plainly on his freckled face, revealed by the many drinks he had imbibed.
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