“Come on. ‘One does not blow off the head of a man with whom one is in love, en effet. And yet the moment I am safely out of the way you are content to dress yourself in my rags, to go and get yourself popular and admired and successful, all on my reputation. The owner of this dress had a broad weather-beaten face, small twinkling eyes, and a bushy, grizzled beard. You are my slave—and such you shall continue. There was no way of recalling the words; so she waited. His hair had begun to gray, his belly had just begun to round. ” Part 11 They sat for a time without speaking a word, in an enormous shining globe of mutual satisfaction.
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