” She glanced shyly at the mirror above her dressing-table, and then about her at the furniture, as though it might penetrate to the thoughts that peeped in her mind. He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived. Besides, you cannot tell where it will end. In his muscular pudgy hand was a photograph, frayed at the corners, soiled from the contact of many hands: the portrait of a youth of eighteen. "I shouldn't wonder," replied Mrs.
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