She floundered deep. This time you cannot. See, it is on my cards—M. She found herself trying on the baubles he brought home, placing the silver rings upon her slim fingers, knowing that he would take up her hand and kiss it. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. ” “Did it come—in Paris?” “I do not know,” he answered. She became eager to explain herself, to show herself in the right light.
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