She went next day to the schools, and her world seemed all made of happiness just worked up roughly into shapes and occasions and duties. “Why will you not be sensible? Go back to your old life and your old friends, and forget all about Paris and this absurd delusion of yours. The wine bubbled and seethed; and the exquisite bouquet of oranges permeated the room. And I don’t. He said that his life was boring and stupid without her. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably.
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