The effort to maintain her self-control was almost superhuman. “This life is killing me! Oh, it is dull, dull, dull!” Suddenly an idea seemed to strike her. Earles attended her obsequiously to the door. His mind was filled briefly with psychic images of a charnel house that danced like a spider in his head. ‘Like you?’ ‘But I am not French. We have seen pitted cheeks, which we would not exchange for dimples and a satin skin.
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