They were only passers-by. The twists in his brain had suddenly straightened out; he was normal, wholly himself; and he knew now exactly what he had done. All this— the island and its affairs—was an old story; but her own peculiar distaste had vanished to a point imperceptible, for she was seeing the island through her husband's eyes, as in the future she would see all things. Usually his charges bored him with their interrogative chatter, for he knew that his information more often than not went into one ear and out of the other. When she got back to her questions again in the monotonous high-road that led up the hill, she found the image of Mr.
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