He was out of breath, and spoke in broken sentences. ‘Now, madame, tell me all about your life in France. ” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. She brought her face to his chest, turning her head sideways so he would not notice her elongated canines. The chair was torture.
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