Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. She munched her bland Whopper as he wolfed three in a row, stuffing his mouth with half a dozen French fries at a time. ” “It wouldn’t be you either. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. “I’d have to be blown up into a thousand pieces. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind. . I have something that weighs heavily upon my mind. She kissed Cathy's soft cheek as she entered the warm kitchen.
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