“My sister,” she murmured, “is so independent. She goes out and comes home. If not, I have plenty to think about,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, and watching the smoke from her own cigarette curl upwards. The poet's appearance altogether was highly prepossessing. They will find me dead, yes. " So saying, he slung it upon his wrist. ’ ‘I would have done, only you threatened to blow off my head,’ Gerald reminded her, laughing. He began to tell me something—and stopped.
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