“My dear Miss Pellissier,” he said impressively, “this is an unexpected pleasure. “How has the world taken it?” he asked. ’ ‘You mean I need not have said it? Damnation. He could see lust virtually dripping from the dark-haired boy’s maw as she teased every last note from her shuddering violin, the devil in a black skirt. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. She alone of them all knew that he was on the first leg of the terrible journey to the beach. He made this simple classification of a large and various sex to the exclusion of all intermediate kinds; he held that the two classes had to be kept apart even in thought and remote from one another. I'm not quite such a greenhorn as Shotbolt, Jack, whatever you may think.
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