Then Valade—was the man as big a fool as Nicholas?—tried again. " "Do you want me to tell her that I am grateful?" "Well, aren't you?" "I don't know; I really don't know. "But to the point," continued Wild, unconscious of the peril in which the remark had placed him,—"to the point. She lingered over donning her winter coat, buttoning each toggle and placket, double knotting her long scarf. She hated tricking Shari, whose joy for life was the only thing that made her naive enough to fall for laced iced tea or hot cocoa, depending on the season. Had to give up the work and take to this. But you,” he continued, moving imperceptibility a little nearer to her, “you are mine. Even the most sullen and withdrawn were sensitive to the penetrating nastiness of the fog. She started at the falling of a leaf, at the lumbering of a cow through the hedge.
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