She shrugged her shoulders. You will torture yourself and torture her all through life; but in the end she will pour the wine of her faith into a sound chalice. At sight of his wan features, she forgot the urgency of her need for a moment, and fell to her knees at his bedside, placing her hands on his slack ones where they lay on the soiled coverlet. Ah Coom. But he held the smile until she turned away from the curtain.
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