It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. The young male, as she had actually seen him, had been of the sailor type, hard-bitten, primordial, ruthless. She did not question or analyze the craving; she took the plunge joyously. “Dinner is served, m’m,” said the efficient parlor-maid in the archway, and the worst was over.
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