His salary was a few paltry hundreds a year. Cheveney strolled up, a pipe in his mouth. Five minutes ago, his butler had entered the green saloon, an austere apartment, with dark forest-green wallpaper flocked with a swirling design, and heavy mahogany furniture. Manning would on no account do, though he was tall and dark and handsome and kind, and thirty-five and adequately prosperous, and all that a husband should be. It doesn't annoy me; it only disturbs me. She laughed a little contemptuously.
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