Professor Michael S. She got up, put the neat cuffs she had made into her work-basket, and went to the bureau for the little cards in the morocco case. “Why, it’s David!” he exclaimed. The intoxicating sense of novelty had given place to a more business-like mood. She imagined descending the stairs, hearing Mike’s uproarious laughter as she peeked around a vacant corner with a lump in her throat.
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