Then she turned, and entering the inner room, commenced to dress hastily for the street. See? Down we should rush in a foam—in a cloud of snow—to flight and a dream. I hardly see you anymore. She parted the curtains to find him standing there. . The tree-lined streets were silent except for the sporadic revving of glass packs down Church Avenue. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. “I don’t see what he has to do with my coming to London?” “He—he worships the ground you tread on. It’s horrible to think of you!” “You’re an awful brick, Teddy!” she said.
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