Her husband had caught her leaning over a precipice into the ruins of the oubliette, and had punished her by flogging her back with a switch. We were only—les autres. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. Jack affected to close the door, but left it slightly ajar. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. She moved then, fast, taking refuge behind a Chinese screen that was set beside the four-poster at the back of the room. About this conception of ownership he perceived and desired a certain sentimental glamour, he liked everything properly dressed, but it remained ownership. Joyous, she felt the need of physical expression; and her body began to sway sinuously, to glide and turn and twist about the room.
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