She thought of leaving the Beck house less and less these days, though the suitcase remained packed underneath her creaky bed. "I've lost my wager. . When I think of those ateliers of ours, the art jargon, the decadents with their flamboyant talk I long for a twoedged sword and a minute of Divinity. You know that. I have done n-nothing. Always her prayers ended—'And may my beautiful mother guide me!' No. She would never forget the agony of that first meal in the great dining room. As a matter of fact I have been waiting for you. You owe what I have done for you, to him, not to me.
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