‘Too late by the time I realised to what a dunderhead I’d pledged my friendship. His hands reached under her skirt. The perspiration stood out upon his forehead. Forthwith he presented his card. Mr. Work becomes distasteful; one thinks of holidays. "It won't do, widow," said he, drawing near her, while she shrank from his approach, "so you may spare your breath. Perhaps I deceived you about it. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind. Then the hotel manager struck his palms together sharply, and two Chinese "boys" came pattering in from the dining room.
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