Then he went back to his rooms and lit a cigar. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. ” Her reverie broke, and she found herself still in front of the looking glass, a barrette hanging loosely from her hair. A tourist caravan of four pole-chairs jogged along a narrow street. Amongst them was a revolver. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut. They were terrible, horrible people. And yet to Spurlock it was only the title of a story he would some day write. It’s just because all that side of your life hasn’t fairly begun.
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