She gained her room, and slammed her door and locked it as though she feared violence and pursuit. In a moment the brisk evening breeze caught the lank canvas and bellied it taut. We have known men who have come here for no other purpose than to prove their unassailable virtue, who have strode into the arena of temptation, waving the—the what is it—the white flower of a blameless life, only to exchange it with marvellous facility for the violets of the Parisienne. “Are we cool?” Michelle asked her.
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