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Updated: June 28, 2025
She was quite close to the place where Lavendie had taken her. Should she go in there? Why not? She must go somewhere. She turned into the revolving cage of glass. But no sooner was she imprisoned there than in a flash Lavendie's face of disgust; and the red-lipped women, the green stuff that smelled of peppermint came back, filling her with a rush of dismay.
Noel raised the glass he had given her. "I wish you all happiness." "And you, mademoiselle," the two men murmured. She drank a little, and rose. "And now, mademoiselle," said Lavendie, "if you must go, I will see you home." Noel took Madame Lavendie's hand; it was cold, and returned no pressure; her eyes had the glazed look that she remembered.
I can't tell why." He saw the smile of a painter whose picture is being criticised come on Lavendie's face. "It is perhaps the colouring which does not please you, monsieur?" "No, no; deeper. The expression; what is she waiting for?" The defensive smile died on Lavendie's lips. "It is as I see her, monsieur le cure." Pierson turned again to the picture, and suddenly covered his eyes.
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