She became aware of the modelling of his ear, of the muscles of his neck and the textures of the hair that came off his brow, the soft minute curve of eyelid that she could just see beyond his brow; she perceived all these familiar objects as though they were acutely beautiful things. Members of the crowd looked over their shoulders and stared at her through the smoky haze. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. "Get up, then," said Jack, freeing his foot from the stirrup. “Who do you think cares for your children as you dally with my husband, Clotilde?” Lucy asked.
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