She did not remember how many seasons it took before she relented, how much time before she decided to toy with his affections. “Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. Once, when he thought he had done so, he smiled an ingratiating smile. That world of fine printed cambrics and escorted maidens, of delicate secondary meanings and refined allusiveness, presented itself to her imagination with the brightness of a lost paradise, as indeed for many women it is a lost paradise. Ruth?" "Why the devil not? Why do you suppose she married you if she didn't love you? While you read I watched her face. “I’ll ruin your suit. . ” Annabel pulled up her veil. F. . Bravo!—the best cly-faker of 'em all couldn't have done it better. .
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