Rather! Who could help it?” He towered up over her and smiled down at her in his fatherly way. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. ’ ‘They? How many are there?’ ‘Oh, peste. After him! A hundred pounds to the man who takes him. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. Her depression since the “accident” had possessed her, she no longer cared how she looked as her beauty helped her not.
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