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Strolling past the Dome a little later suddenly I see a pale, heavy face and
burning eyes-and the little velvet suit that I always adore because under the soft velvet there were always her warm breasts,
the marble legs, cool, firm, muscular. She rises up out of a sea of faces and embraces me, embraces me passionately-a thousand
eyes, noses, fingers, legs, bottles, windows, purses, saucers all glaring at us and we in each other's arm oblivious. I sit
down beside her and she talks- a flood of talk. Wild consumptive notes of hysteria, perversion, leprosy. I hear not a word
because she is beautiful and I love her and now I am happy and willing to die.
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