I’ve been thinking, you know—I’m not sure that primarily the perception of beauty isn’t just intensity of feeling free from pain; intensity of perception without any tissue destruction. I cannot turn into a bat. He crawled underneath the covers with her. She was sick of herself, of her life, of everything but him; and for him all her masked and hidden being was crying out. Her grave fine face, her warm clear complexion, had already aroused his curiosity as he had gone to and fro in Morningside Park, and here suddenly he was near to her and talking freely and intimately. Easily.
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