He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. It is we who have become the parasites and toys. ‘I kissed you once, didn’t I?’ Her pulses jumped and she stared. Ten thousand steeds appeared to be trampling aloft, charged with the work of devastation.
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