\" She cooed into his ear, stroking his chest hair. “There’s no one here except me. He was a young man of about two-and-twenty, who, without having anything remarkable either in dress or appearance, was yet a noticeable person, if only for the indescribable expression of cunning pervading his countenance. She was inclined to think that perhaps for a girl the converse of his method was the case; an older man, a man beyond the range of anything “nonsensical,” was, perhaps, the most interesting sort of friend one could meet. “I have signed a statement that I shot myself; bad trade and drink, both true—both true. . ’ She was silent for a space, and it was evident that this part of the story was still too painful to be recalled with ease.
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