‘There were the Comte and Comtesse de St Erme. That's the kind, my friend, that always fall soft. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room.
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