Gerald smiled and excused himself with the Poussaint girl, whose mouth pinched together as she threw a dagger glance at the voluptuous Madame Valade. And neither had any of that theatricality which demands gestures and facial expression. We have seen great and sober-minded men come to this unholy city, and become degenerates. Gone were the old days where an old maid banged on an upright piano above a roaring crowd, this sound was loud enough to be heard outside the building, she thought to herself as her eardrums throbbed. Gerald’s temper flared.
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