“I know,” she said quietly, “that Paris, where she has been so much admired, is not a good place for her. Then as she lay very still, with her hands clinched and her black hair tumbled about her face, he came still closer and softly kissed the nape of her neck. The oblique ruddy lighting distorted them oddly, made queer bars and patches of shadow upon their clothes. You’re the only person I’ve really given good, straight, unselfish thought to.
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