Who was he to tread on her dreams? She had heroworshipped an unscrupulous adventurer, who had not hesitated to impose on her youth and her ignorance. She ignored his question. She was acquiring truths, but in a series of shocks rather than by the process of analysis. “Go on!” she commanded. Then to the Golden Ball, in the same street. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger.
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