On the way home he was still thoughtful. A young man was playing the banjo. "Something more than whisky did that. "He shan't go," cried Edgeworth Bess, holding him by the other hand. The girl stood with her hands behind her back, sulky, resolute, and intelligent, a strand of her black hair over one eye and looking more than usually delicate-featured, and more than ever like an obdurate child. . “Come, we must go home and have some luncheon.
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