” Annabel looked intently into her glass. Perhaps what urged her interest in the young man's direction was the dead whiteness of his face, the puffed eyelids and the bloodshot whites. For nothing they kiss. An ancient smile lay on his lips. ‘It is not for myself, you understand,’ pursued the man, in an unctuous tone that sickened the general, ‘but for this poor one. “I think,” he said, “that you have found the real home of the lotus-eaters.
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