Her naked body was an abomination of caked filth and sagging tubes for breasts. All his interest in Ruth, all his care and solicitude, could now be translated into a single word—love. Beyond was a chaise longue, covered with cushions and shawls laid anyhow across it, together with a discarded tapestry in the making, and a scattering of woollen threads about it. “You found the cabochon? After all these years?” He asked, incredulous. Someday I'll take you down there and have them rig up the coconut dance for you. He was in front of one of the more imposing of the cafés chantants—opposite, illuminated with a whole row of lights, was the wonderful poster which had helped to make ‘Alcide’ famous. Luck. He had an air of having told her a deep, personal secret.
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