I don’t care WHAT happens. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. She felt that for a time at any rate her depressing struggle against continual failure was at an end. 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 have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive.
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