Balanced on his nose were enormous tortoise-shell spectacles. “It was the night you left Paris. He growled in his throat and, thrusting his coat open, revealed his own buckled sword-belt. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. ’ Madame gave one of those breathy laughs. ) You are all the slender goddesses.
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