He dressed mechanically; so many moves this way, so many moves that. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face. “Why did you ever let me love you? Why did you ever let me peep through the gates of Paradise? Oh! my God! I don’t begin to feel and realize this yet. Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. We have known men who have come here for no other purpose than to prove their unassailable virtue, who have strode into the arena of temptation, waving the—the what is it—the white flower of a blameless life, only to exchange it with marvellous facility for the violets of the Parisienne. I should know you—in Heaven or Hell. At length she hit upon it: bubbling water. ” She said to him as they walked past houses down the block.
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