” “Many other people,” she remarked, “have made the same mistake. There were neither texts nor rubbish on the walls, but only a stirring version of Belshazzar’s feast, a steel engraving in the early Victorian manner that had some satisfactory blacks. Then he would turn his face to her, and she would have to think of herself in his eyes. They both listened intently. Were it not for your voice, I don't think I should know you.
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