“Sort of man who can see no further than his nose,” he remarked contemptuously. But I don’t want to. The Higher Life and the Lower. Oh, God!” Rhea sniffed the air through two gaping nostrils that had eroded through her onion skin flesh. Hers were less noble, yet stately. Except for a few early ebullitions of passion, natural to a warm and romantic disposition, and leaving no harmful after-effects—ebullitions that by the standards of the higher truth I feel no one can justly cast a stone at, and of which I for one am by no means ashamed—I come to you a pure and unencumbered man.
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