He would make her rub her lips with waxes and other ointments, precursors of lipsticks. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him. And, without another word, he seized the table with both hands, and upset it; scattering plates, dishes, bottles, jugs, and glasses far and wide. Wood scarcely knew where he was. Afterwards she hunted up the article in question, and it seemed to her quite delightfully written and argued. ‘Bête,’ she flung at him.
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