He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her. I hope—I am sure that he did not see me. You're easy to please. Her voice was weak and flat. Nice, of course. "I am sorry. I couldn't accept anything from you. But women—women as a rule don’t throw themselves into things like that. In the old days he had been something of an athlete—a runner, an oarsman, and a crack at tennis. "Very well," said Rachel, with a toss of her pretty head, "very well. ‘And I do understand.
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