There was a moment’s breathless and disappointed silence. Mr. “Why don’t you wear your white blouse more often? It is the prettiest shirt you own. It was like the grin of a fiend, and made my flesh creep on my bones. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. Suddenly he stopped short. I followed you home on the train. And I get myself dirty. I have calculated my chances, you perceive. There is not a soul in the inn but ourselves.
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