She tugged at my coat and said, ‘I know of the blue-eyed maid. But it is that I have a very bad temper, you understand. As she danced there was in her ears the faded echo of wooden tom-toms. ‘No, no, Jacques, you have done very right. I didn’t! I didn’t! After all—” For a time her mind ran on daintiness and its defensive restraints as though it was the one desirable thing.
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