He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke. She wore a plain black dress, reaching almost to her throat—her small oval face, with the large brown eyes, was colourless, delicately expressive, yet with something mysterious in its Sphinx-like immobility. You women, with your tricks of evasion, you’re a sex of swindlers. ’ ‘Eh bien, what then?’ Emile sidled closer.
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