“I changed my last shilling yesterday. In the genuinely dissipated face there was always a suggestion of slyness in ambush, peeping out of the wrinkles around the eyes and the lips. Nothing has been touched since. The pursuit of pleasure, selfgratification, is an original instinct with her. She lied. She released her clutch on it as, dizzy with exhaustion, she leaned against the back of the pew and closed her eyes, her fingers grasping out automatically for support. Gianfrancesco had told her about it, how he had played in it as a child with his brothers.
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