lives over that window

Louisa, my sister, would have the window open. I wanted it shut. 　　We fought every night of our lives over that window. Have you everseen a moth dyin' in a night-light?" she enquired. 　　Again there was an interruption. Hewet and Hirst appearedat the drawing-room window and came up to the tea-table. 　　Rachel's heart beat hard. She was conscious of an extraordinaryintensity in everything, as though their presence stripped some coveroff the surface of things; but the greetings were remarkably commonplace. 　　"Excuse me," said Hirst, rising from his chair directly hehad sat down. He went into the drawing-room, and returnedwith a cushion which he placed carefully upon his seat. 　　"Rheumatism," he remarked, as he sat down for the second time. 　　"The result of the dance?" Helen enquired. 　　"Whenever I get at all run down I tend to be rheumatic," Hirst stated. 　　He bent his wrist back sharply. "I hear little pieces of chalkgrinding together!"Rachel looked at him. She was amused, and yet she was respectful;if such a thing could be, the upper part of her face seemed to laugh,and the lower part to check its laughter. 　　Hewet picked up the book that lay on the ground. 　　"You like this?" he asked in an undertone. 　　"No, I don't like it," she replied. She had indeed been tryingall the afternoon to read it, and for some reason the glory whichshe had perceived at first had faded, and, read as she would,she could not grasp the meaning with her mind. 　　"It goes round, round, round, like a roll of oil-cloth," she hazarded.