She bathed frequently with ash and lye soap stolen from traders. No! I do not even know that he cares for me. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. There is nothing but your pride which stands between us. “But don’t you know about me?” he said at last. The thought of beauty became an obsession.
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