His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. Flinging her back against it, she put her hands out, barring his way. One point in her narrative stood out beyond all others. There was little more here than a sideboard, a chest for the vestments, and a simple wooden chair. "Nobody composes any more, nobody paints, nobody writes—I mean, on a par with what we've just heard. But to go courting a slave-girl, at the risk of physical hurt! A shudder of distaste wrinkled her shoulders.
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