His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. “Life is upsetting enough, without the novels taking a share,” said Mr. To-morrow he might be sorry; but to-day, this hour! She rose, not quickly, but with a dignity which only accentuated her beauty. She slept in a bedroom clad in linens and skins, walked down hallways bedecked in the most gay and colorful frescos. I’m a hard young woman.
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