“I think, aunt,” she said, “you might trust to my self-respect to keep me out of that. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. "Remember the devil!" retorted Terence, who had recovered his natural audacity. She admired his backside as he fetched a blue towel from his bathroom. " Here a murmur of amazement arose from the assemblage outside. “You call yourself an artist— but you have no temperament.
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