He stopped short of a group of adolescent saplings and turned the ignition off. Amongst other things, he had just brought down an old laced bavaroy, a species of surtout much worn at the period. Presently he caught her puzzled glance, and recollected himself, turning on the charm again. His was the Latin turn of thinking; he had fallen in love at thirteen, and he was still capable—he prided himself—of falling in love.
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