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The latch had not fully caught. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off. She looked at the white ankle socks on her feet and was reminded simultaneously of her pajama outfit and the suitcase that still lay underneath the bed. “That is my dream of you,” said Manning, warming. ‘I can take care of myself, bête. He grabbed her hair viciously and whispered loudly into her tear-streaked face. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words. McClintock, striking a match to relight his cigar, broke the spell. “I’m sorry! Mary! Are you hurt?” “No. ’ Jack blinked at her. " "I will—I will," replied Wood hastily. Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers.
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