She reminded him sometimes of the one holy and ineffable Madonna, at others of Berode, the great courtezan of her day, who had sent kings away from her doors, and had just announced her intention of ending her life in a convent. She lit the cigarette with a tiny Kelly green drugstore lighter. He wisely refrained from questioning the manager of the Victoria. Her nerves were shattered, her senses dazed by this unexpected shock. “Much as I hate rows, I’ve either got to make a stand or give in altogether. .
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