. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. But he has never been near her—never. It was ten feet long, a relic. It was the grand nursery of vice. To this Jack replied, that he should be perfectly contented, provided he might have a small allowance of gin.
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