The bliss had lasted one hundred and forty years, far more than an entire mortal lifetime. All its better points were improved, while the less attractive ones (and they were few in comparison) were subdued, or removed. She accepted his rejoinder with a brief nod. Her softly intertwined fingers became rigid. She crushed the letter in her hand. Afterward, one afternoon, he hovered about her, and came and sat beside her and talked of beauty and the riddle of beauty for some time. You got to take the world as it is, and the only possible trade for a girl that isn’t sweated is to get hold of a man and make him do it for her. Them young prigs is all alike. ‘You are wise, Marthe.
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