So, in broken, rather breathless phrases, he told his story; and when he had done, he laid his arms upon the table and bent his head to them. Teenage boys never change, she thought to herself. ‘You make a game with me, I think. My thanks, by the by. The fanatic has no such word in his vocabulary. This way, my dear—and— you’ll excuse my mentioning it, but a quiet blouse and a little chiffon, you know, will be quite sufficient.
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