He was alert, well-groomed, and yet—perhaps in contrast with the more volatile French type—there was a suggestion of weight about him, not to say heaviness. “MY DEAR GIRL,— “I am so sorry if we made asses of ourselves to-night. "I thought I heard a scream. You know—I worship you. I’M shaken. Fascination. " He stared at the agitated curtain; and slowly his chin sank until it touched his chest. “I’ll get a towel.
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