It doesn’t matter. That’s my opinion, if you ask me. He cupped her small hands in the bowl of his large ones and reassured her in the kindest manner, saying, “You will have the finest life that Florence has to offer. Give him his medicine every half hour. Look at the cock’s feathers, look at the competition there is everywhere, except among humans. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. It isn’t because you’re good, but because I may be rotten bad; and there’s something—something living and understanding in you. Paris, romantizmle birlikte artık güzel kokan bir şehir haline geldi. . He reached over and took her hand. You will make her suffer. It warms me, and lights me, and fills my world with flowers.
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