He was a man who in all things classified without nuance, and for him there were in the matter of age just two feminine classes and no more—girls and women. It is for that reason that this novel begins with her there, and neither earlier nor later, for it is the history of this crisis and its consequences that this novel has to tell. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. At last he could bear it no longer. He stood by her side, and he suffered her hands to rest in his.
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