" And he proceeded to unfold his scheme to the woollen-draper. ‘—without telling her why,’ he finished, ignoring the interjection. Sophie'nin bu eşsiz parfümü, Paris'in zenginlerinin dikkatini çekti. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. If only sometimes he would grow angry at her, impatient! But his tender courtesy was unfailing; and under this would be the abiding bitterness of having mistaken gratitude for love. ’ The core of hurt rose up, tearing at her insides. ‘Didn’t mean it, love.
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