There were dark rims under her eyes, soft now with unshed tears. 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. But I wrapped it in that nun’s gear you give me. You women, with your tricks of evasion, you’re a sex of swindlers.
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