” He said. "What for?" rejoined Quilt, evasively. She did not learn the kind of looks she had been bestowing upon him at a convent. Probably he will come around to-morrow and begin all over again. ‘But I ain’t been idle, miss, I swear it. She gathered her black purse, a pointless thing made of cardboard covered in sateen and bejeweled with an assortment of rhinestones. You had better let me go again. He's an interpretative genius, if there ever was one.
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