Look at the cock’s feathers, look at the competition there is everywhere, except among humans. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. Something that is born anew each time we meet, and pines when we are separated. It was his particular hobby, and the leisure he had to apply to it had given him a remarkable appraising eye. By a miracle, he averted its path, his hold on the girl’s mouth shifting fast to grasp her wrist.
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