Will you read to me? I am tired; and the sound of your voice makes me drowsy. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. ” “I did not come,” she faltered. For just as though a vague likeness is sometimes borne swiftly in upon one, so a vague dissimilarity between the face on the poster and the heroine of his thoughts had slowly crept into his consciousness. She struggled not to be afraid. He saw her eyes pass him and settle on a fleetingly pretty strawberry blond girl and her effeminate father. Here I am as an alternative either to nasty work—or going home. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt.
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