Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. Folding his arms, he placed his back against the door, and burst into a loud laugh. “I will not have this slavery. She reloaded. She waited a few minutes, then greeted the burly doorman who stood as the building’s lone sentry. The cloth was removed, and Wood, drawing the table as near the window as possible—for it was getting dusk —put on his spectacles, and opened that sacred volume from which the best consolation in affliction is derived, and left the lovers—for such they may now be fairly termed—to their own conversation.
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