When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. I’ve always had a sneaking desire for the writing-trade. Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. As to Mrs. " O'Higgins extracted a cigar from a pocket and inspected it. “I believe she’s dressing up-stairs—now.
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