She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. "He is dying?" whispered Ruth. It wasn't worth while to invest imaginatively a man with evil projects simply because he was physically ugly. There’d only be endless rows if I was at home. One little minute with soap and water, voilà tout. It still failed in something. She was curious to know why he had boarded a dingy train instead of hailing a cab or his own private chauffeur like the others in expensive suits were doing. \" He commented heartily, wiping the sweat from his brow with his hand.
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