Emile’s fist crashed into her temple and stars exploded in her vision. He remembered that he had heard stories about the wonderful likeness between these two sisters, one of whom was an artist and a recluse, whilst the other had attached herself to a very gay and a very brilliant little coterie of pleasure-seekers. “Yet it is my last evening, and I think —if you are sure that you would like to have me—that I will risk it. Warm life was behind that always, even if it slept. The hand which the man had been holding hung limp and nerveless at her side. There was no one at home, and I was coming away when I saw that the door was open.
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