What she did not know, and what she was never to know, was that the divine fire was hers. Manning told her he loved beauty, and extorted a similar admission from her; he then expatiated upon his own love of beauty. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. Almost worthy of your own fertile imagination. "Promise me that. The guineas are not for serving your mistress.
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