She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. " Still the voice was without emotion; calm, colourless. These petals! I’ve been wanting to cry all the evening, cry here on your shoulder for my petals. I've got to know why. They came teeming distressfully through her aching brain: “A man can kick, his skirts don’t tear; A man scores always, everywhere.
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