It’s these damned novels. They walked side by side for a time. “I think,” he said, “I was a little too mystical about beauty the other day. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. Puffy blue curtains dressed every oakstained window. I think I know where I am puzzling you now——” “Then for Heaven’s sake be merciful,” he exclaimed.
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