” 129 She smiled wider. “How CAN I tell him?” whispered Miss Stanley. He first met her when he had caught her smoking behind the Joliet LaudrO-Matic one cool overcast day in late August. ’ I said. Her figure was perfect,—tall, graceful, rounded,—and, then, she had deep liquid blue eyes, that rivalled the stars in lustre. It was wonderful to think this thing had lived, had felt and suffered. She had eaten little or no tea, and her mid-day meal had been worse than nothing.
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