A spot of colour, brighter than any rouge, burned on her cheeks. ‘It will suit me very well that you go away, because you are a person without sense and I do not wish to talk to you. The metrical irregularity is intentional, because I want, as it were, to put you apart: to change the lilt and the mood altogether when I speak of you. I know faces. The blast once more swept over the agitated river: whirled off the sheets of foam, scattered them far and wide in rain-drops, and left the raging torrent blacker than before. . ‘This is not a place for a man.
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