And one must—some of it must slip through one’s fingers. Her hand came up and she laced her fingers with his. Or had she, like himself, been held up until the fellow returned to town? He waited, his ready humour anticipating her likely reaction. He shuddered. . 6. And when, at length, it was struck, he wanted energy to pursue his advantages. Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. He was perhaps forty-five years of age. “I’m really very sorry.
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