“Is it any one you know?” Brendon asked. . No, none at all. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. ‘s as mad as any of you, in spite of all his respectability; not a bit of him straight anywhere, not one bit.
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