One’s sense of proportion, battered out of all shape in the daily life of cities, reasserts itself. . I don’t mean I’m not a good woman—I mean that I’m not a GOOD woman. Please tell me what your terms are. ” She gave him a Marboro which he lit with a Zippo with an American flag on it. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. ” The corners of her lips rose along with her eyebrows. She would not be driven in by this persistent, sneaking aggression.
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