. . “It’s like Troy!” said a voice of rapture. . He removed his cigarette from his lips and waved it gently in the air. Every now and then her general presence became radiantly dazzling in his eyes; she would appear in the street coming toward him, a surprise, so fine and smiling and welcoming was she, so expanded and illuminated and living, in contrast with his mere expectation. He ignored her protests in order to pursue some impressive line of his own.
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