His face changed and she saw, with a stab at her heart, the dawning of irritation in his eyes. —'How so?' says I. She turned away from the doorway of the silk loom to observe. You and the girl have made it soft for him, and I'm going to make it soft for him. She looked in the glass over and over as she checked for lint and makeup streaks. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. She hadn't meant to ask anything for herself.
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