Even the abstract paintings on the wall were gray. A dissipated, loose-living man. I want to boast myself. His smile faded. She had never been to the opera before except as one of a congested mass of people in the cheaper seats, and with backs and heads and women’s hats for the frame of the spectacle; there was by contrast a fine large sense of space and ease in her present position. Moving room to room it was. She knew now the supreme human energy which sent men to hell or carried them to their earthly heights. "Constance—or, rather, Mrs.
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