It was in another world from that in which men will die for
a kiss, and touching hands lights fires that burn up lives—the world of romance,
the world of passionately beautiful things. He lowered her neck before her, and she
noticed a bizarre urge to bite him rising from her mind
like an itch. ‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d
pledged my friendship. He found himself thinking up all the
psychology which he had ever read. Her gown was minimalist compared
to those concoctions of boning and lace of long ago, she
reflected, but that did not stop it from getting caught on
134
brambles and twigs. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found
behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose—
dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. ”
Mrs. Darrell stood erect in the bark, with his drawn
sword in hand, prepared to repel the attack of his assailants, who, in their turn,
seemed to await with impatience the moment which should deliver him into their
power. The same pale white buttocks, the
same freckles in the same unchanging patterns on her
collarbone that all of her mother’s potions had never
been able to erase. ” She leaned against the back
wall of the place, sinking slowly. It rained
heavily all day, so he did not stir forth. . Poor thing! how beautiful she looks! but how like
death!"
Deathlike, indeed, was the repose of the sleeper,—deathlike and deep. Some day she wanted to be loved as Marius loved Cosette; but there was another
character which bit far more deeply into her mind. The calvacade was now put slowly in motion.
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This video was uploaded to damaulifm.org on 14-07-2024 04:46:13