Notwithstanding her emaciation, her features still retained something of a pleasing expression, and might have been termed beautiful, had it not been for that repulsive freshness of lip denoting the habitual dram-drinker; a freshness in her case rendered the more shocking from the almost livid hue of the rest of her complexion. All at once her heart began to patter queerly. The dizziness made the trees sickening, the smell of Michelle’s perfume soapy and revolting. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing.
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