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The destroying angel hurried by, shrouded in his gloomiest apparel. It was a capital diversion; and as usual the Leatherneck bested the Britisher, in seven rounds. His jawline was 78 masculine and severe, only tempered by the soft hazy color of his eyes. But this afternoon it discovered an unusual vein of irritability in her. “I can’t endure it,” she said. She wished that the drive would never end, but it was only three miles after all. "How very like it is!" "Not so strange, surely," laughed Thames, "that a picture should resemble the person for whom it's intended. His salvation—if there was to be any—lay in her ignorance of life. The fact that it was her trusted friend making illicit love to her remained, in spite of all her effort, an insignificant thing in her mind.
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