We can’t afford to turn our women, our Madonnas, our Saint Catherines, our Mona Lisas, our goddesses and angels and fairy princesses, into a sort of man. And all the third act is love-sick music. This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. ’ ‘Oh, do they?’ Gerald said, sudden wrath kindling. His hand flew across the paper. Oh God! pardon me. " "Wretch!" cried Jack, raising his hand in a menacing manner, "your triumph will be short-lived. He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume her with passion.
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