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The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. Too late she realised that Emile was not trying to escape. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. And at the thought of that other lover—he was convinced that that beloved person was a lover, and she found herself unable to say a word to explain to him that this other person, the person she loved, did not even know of her love—Ramage grew angry and savage once more, and returned suddenly to gibe and insult. At the sight of her he became rigid and a singularly bright shade of pink. Sometimes her straying mind would become astonishingly active—embroidering bright and decorative things that she could say to Capes; sometimes it passed into a state of passive acquiescence, into a radiant, formless, golden joy.
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This video was uploaded to waterscolumns.info on 23-09-2024 18:16:43