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Madame Merle
she remembered rightly he had said he wished to
take his last look at her. Since then he had been the
most discordant survival of her earlier time-the only
one in fact with which a permanent pain was
associated. He had left that morning with a sense of
the most superfluous of shocks: it was like a
collision between vessels in broad daylight.
There had been no mist, no hidden current to excuse
it, and she herself had only wished to steer wide. He
had bumped against her prow, however, while her
hand was on the tiller, and to complete the
metaphor had given the lighter vessel a strain
which still occasionally betrayed itself in a faint
creaking (484-485).
Conclusion