She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. Why had he kissed her? What had led him into that? Neither love nor passion— utter blankness so far as reducing the act to terms. E. “He says you are frigid, Madame. ” He fell back in his chair with an expression of tremendous desolation. . Then light footsteps became audible, descending the staircase with a certain deliberation and a faint rustle of skirts. "Oh God!" exclaimed Jack, in a tone of the bitterest anguish. “We’ll go to a place where we can have a private room,” he said. The crowd began to separate as it fell into the theater.
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