‘Move, you. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. The doctor sensed that his bolt had gone wrong, but he could not tell how or why. “Forgive me,” he said. ’ ‘What?’ uttered Gerald, startled. I have very few friends in Paris.
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