Rather,
it was the image of some customer or creditor or of some new
style of jacket or cloak that would interfere with my peace of
mind. My brain was full of prices, bills, notes, checks, fabrics,
color effects, "lines." Not infrequently, while walking in the street
or sitting in a street-car, I would catch myself describing some of
those garment lines in the air.
And yet, through all these preoccupations I seemed to be
constantly aware that something unusual had happened to me,
giving a novel tinge to my being; that I was a changed man
CHAPTER VIII MAX saw nothing. His wife was a very womanly
woman with a splendid, almost a gorgeous snow-white womanly
complexion, and I was a young man in whom, according to his
own dictum, women ought to be interested; yet he never seemed
to feel anything like apprehension about us. This man who plumed
himself upon his knowledge of women and love and who actually
had a great deal of insight in these matters, this man, I say, was
absolutely blind to his wife's power over me.
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