‘I knew you would be furious. Old thoughts, old feelings, old faces, and old scenes have returned to me, and I have fancied myself happy,—as happy as I am now. ” He scarcely saw her face again. Elegant, a little scornful, she leaned slightly against the back of a chair and looked him steadily in the eyes. He was wrapped in a laced roquelaure, which he threw off on his entrance into the room. “TROUSERS!” she whispered.
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