After that consolations fled. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. She was leaning over him and he smelled her like he had never smelled anyone before. Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. ” “An appetite like yours,” he said resignedly, “is fatal to all sentiment. She woke up choking and belching water. ‘And how is it that you have acquired this garb of a religieuse?’ he asked as she fitted the veil over her head. Her father’s step quickened to a trot.
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