He stopped, panting hard, slamming his cane to the floor to make use of its much-needed support. She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. They are the only happy women in the Orient.
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