It was Celeste’s idea. The wind blew in fitful gusts, and scattered the yellow leaves from the elms and horse-chestnuts. “We are not going the right way,” she exclaimed. It had showed up at an auction at Sotheby’s after someone had sold it. Prepared as he was for a dreadful shock, and with his nerves strung to endure it, Jack absolutely recoiled before the appalling object that met his gaze. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her.
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