It came into her head with real emotional force that this must be some particularly fantastic sort of dream. Then suddenly her spirit rose in revolt. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. I have very few friends in Paris. The agony on the sands now ceased to puzzle her. She ought to have been disposed to faint and scream at all these happenings; she ought to have maintained a front of outraged dignity to veil the sinking of her heart. She backed away from him.
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