His energy began to slip away and she sank her teeth into his fat carotid artery below the piano wire, which had drawn blood from his neck. Then his beard was of a reddish hue, and his complexion warm and sanguine. She dropped a flower—it’s in my pocket-book now. He played variations on this theme for the better part of an hour. This moment couldn’t be better until the next moment comes. She paced restlessly to the door and back again, biting her tongue on the hot words begging to be uttered.
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