I once might have married you for your beauty,—now I marry you for your wealth. He displayed a quite unprofessional vein of mysticism in the matter. Each manuscript was like the other: the same lovely treatment of an unlovely subject. . When they reached her rooms she stepped lightly out upon the pavement. Her skin prickled. He no longer made love to her, as there was no point. 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. Now I am sorry to cross you in anything you have set your heart upon, but I regret to say—” “H’m,” he reflected, and crossed out the last four words. “The horse’s knees are broken, and I am not sure that the man is sober. Wood's reply, if he intended any, was cut short by a loud knocking at the door. A certain irritation crept into his manner as he did so.
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