While this was going on, Blueskin, seeing no notice whatever taken of him, coughed loudly and repeatedly. He pictured himself visiting the girl in this shabby little home of her aunt’s—she had told him that it was shabby—and he recalled that delicious little smile with which she would surely greet him, a smile which seemed to be a matter of the eyes as well as the lips. ‘What are the chances, do you think, of that thing being already cocked?’ ‘Probably not even loaded,’ suggested Hilary hopefully. He could not kiss Ruth. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. “How have you been lately, Lucy? You’ve been such a stranger. He removed his cockaded hat, putting it down between them as he sat at the other end, placing himself at an angle and, crossing his legs, leaned back at his ease, his eyes fixed on her face.
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