To her mind, recalling the picture of him the night before, there had been something tragic in the grim silent manner of his tippling. “You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband. ” She cried once they were in the great room. A lovely, fetching girl. The ruffled chemise-front under the wide lapels of her waistcoat and jacket no longer quivered, and her pose, with the full cloth petticoat spreading about her, was relaxed.
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