"Darrell's job was done early this morning," he said; "and if I'd attended to his advice, the packing-case would have been finished at the same time. These were less like streets than labyrinths, hewn through an eternal twilight. ‘I would read your body,’ he whispered, and lifted her fingers to his lips. But think of the disillusionment! Except for our sex we have minds like men, desires like men. He’s been 274 lookin’ a little down lately. End of Project Gutenberg's Anna the Adventuress, by E.
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