I have it about me. “I got Sydney’s telegram at ten o’clock, and caught the ten-thirty from the Gare du Nord. But that possibility had been anticipated. Vanity was a vice not just to be deprecated, but effectively strangled at birth. He flung himself backwards, hit the dais and fell heavily before the altar, losing his low-crowned beaver. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. She could tell that he probably wanted to kiss her, but she did not act upon the opportunity. Over the sea of heads arose a black and dismal object. The day was so darkly overcast that she had to turn on the small white porcelain lamp that sat upon the makeup crowded vanity. I shall now be able to test my skill.
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