But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume. " "All right. There were two sisters, you know. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. The brain tires of resistance, and when it meets again and again, incoherently active, the same phrases, the same ideas that it has already slain, exposed and dissected and buried, it becomes less and less energetic to repeat the operation.
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