It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. "I'm an ungrateful dog!" "You will be if you don't instantly kiss me the way you used to. "For what?" "I had the paper with me. It was debauching, this—a devilish art which drew such strange allurements from a face and figure almost Madonna-like in their simplicity. I found it on the beach, just sitting there nestled inside a piece of driftwood. The very blank, however, affected him more deeply than if it had been left.
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