" "All right, then. Their flitting hands were always touching. Mr. McClintock watched her interestedly until her golden head vanished below; then, with tolerant pity, he looked down at Spurlock, who had closed his eyes. Their soft, voluptuous bodies wove among each other to the faint notes of a lyre. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue. Now, the reward?" "I have but an ill-furnished purse. I picked up her handkerchief on the floor. What was it she had expected? Surely her moods were getting a little out of hand.
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