There was a tearing sound as the canvas gave way, and the precious portrait ripped apart as the top of the Frenchman’s head came through it. She thought of the marvellous beauty of skin, and all the delightfulness of living texture. The only thing that was louder to her was the beating of his heart. ” “I said I was all right. Not to go to her is wickeder than if I had run away with my friend's wife.
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