“Then why the devil,” he demanded, “do you let me stand you dinners and the opera—and why do you come to a cabinet particuliar with me?” He became radiant with anger. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. . I’d come back from the ends of the earth. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. Nevertheless there came a residuum of expostulations. They were exquisite. The coffin was lowered into the grave, and the mourners departed.
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