She ran to the lamp and extinguished it. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush. “Not too bad. You notice that I have recently spent ten francs on a box of the best Russian cigarettes, and that there are roses upon my table. “More coffee, hon?” She held her hand over the cup. And mind you don't arouse his suspicions.
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