There were no doors in the bungalow; instead, there were curtains of strung bead and bamboo, always tinkling mysteriously. ‘Comment? What do you wish?’ ‘What the devil do you think you’re up to now, I’d like to know?’ Her eyes flashed. Upon this grateful animal she lavished that affection which was subtly repelled by its lawful object. Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him. " Mechanically raising the potion to her lips, the poor creature swallowed it without hesitation.
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