" "I'm sorry I can't indulge you," replied her master, a little piqued. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. " But seeing that no notice was taken of the retort, he drew a little aside, and folded his arms, muttering, "This whim will soon be over. A shudder rippled across his shoulders. Think—think of that engagement!” Their talk had come to eloquent silences that contradicted all he had to say. “What did it matter?” she cried.
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