The hansom drove off. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. She donned her fuzzy slippers and traipsed downstairs, the welcoming smell of coffee beckoning her, the sound of Looney Toons music barely audible from the television set. He found, however, that now the time had come he utterly lacked the courage to attempt any such speech. “Concern me!” she repeated fiercely. He seemed so clean anyway, his fair 215 skin, his light brown hair, there almost seemed to be no point. "A hundred guineas if you hang Jack Sheppard. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. “You see, dear, one IS passionately anxious for something—what is it? One wants to be CLEAN. "Well—well," grumbled Jonathan, "I suppose I must be content. Why? If she had put the query to herself, she could not have answered it.
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