‘Dieu du ciel, is this a way to have me say yes? If it is that you do not wish to, why do you ask me?’ ‘Ah. So this was what it was all about. But leave me here in my home, child, I will disintegrate if I am exposed. Her hair was the one part of her that did not exude the air of wealth. Many things were only words, sounds; she could not construct these words and sounds into objects; or, if she did, invariably missed the mark. She could smell his cologne underneath his collar, or perhaps his aftershave.
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