“Let’s go. . It is the bottom of the cup, where all the dregs appear to settle. We men are like children. ’ ‘What, for not wanting to marry you?’ ‘Imbecile. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. Her moods were many and always striking. She was now permitted freely to study the face. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door.
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