The vote is only the beginning, the necessary beginning. "Give me your thorough-paced villain. His invalid wife and her money had been only the thin thread that held his life together; beaded on that permanent relation had been an inter-weaving series of other feminine experiences, disturbing, absorbing, interesting, memorable affairs. She could feel his eyes surreptiously scanning her backside. The highest form of knowledge was magic: the priesthood. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. And look, again, at the women one finds letting lodgings. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha.
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