Perhaps this was the real turning point: the hour in which the disordered mind began permanently to readjust itself. I came to the Beck’s house. She had never been there before at that hour, in that light, and it seemed to her as if she came to it all for the first time. He rang the doorbell, even though she had already cracked the door for him. But there was no feeling of remorse; there was only the sensation of exaltation.
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