The white haze of poison clouded her eyes. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. She then dried her eyes, and laying her child gently upon the floor, knelt down beside him. His face was aquiline but sweet, the years had not yet taken the blush from his cheeks and his lips were similarly rubefacient. Eh bien, they would see about this. And it is your own fault that your husband dallies with me.
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