“He thrust her back. ‘Don’t touch me!’ he cried.
(…)
A fit of passionate sobbing choked her. She crouched on the floor like a wounded thing, and Dorian Gray, with his beautiful eyes, looked down at her. And his chiselled lips curled in exquisite disdain. There is always something ridiculous about the passions of people whom one has ceased to love.”
In.: The Picture of Dorian Gray
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