Somewhere she had read that it was the proper thing to do and that men liked to be alone with their tobacco. He did not like it, he said, with a significant look, to be reminded of either his books or his dinners after he had done with them. My friends consider it wonderfully faithful. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. But tell me how have you escaped from the confinement in which you were placed—come and sit by me—here—upon the bed—give me your hand—and tell me all about it. He was a fool. But he seized the chance to entrap her fingers, fan and all, and look deeply into her eyes.
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