“he plunged out into the winter night bursting with the belated eloquence of the inarticulate” — Edith Wharton Copy Share Image
He bent and laid his lips on her hands, which were cold and lifeless. She drew them away, and he turned to the door, found his coat and hat under the faint gas-light of the hall, and plunged out into… — Edith Wharton Copy Share Image
