What she admired in her man was his resolute defense of his opinions. It was a face that matched her body, so pure and beautiful that any man would have killed for her. The girl was like some north-country woodland pool, penetrated by a single shaft of sunlight—beautifully clear in one spot and mysteriously obscured elsewhere. Her knees shook, her breath came fast, she almost felt the lurid effect of those tiny patches of rouge upon her pallor-stricken cheeks. “We can,” he said, “and we will. That is why I am glad that she has gone to London. I have a new cult to teach, a new enthusiasm.
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