The walls rocked, the footrail of the bed wavered, and the girl's head had the nebulosity of a composite photograph. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. A glance sufficed to show the young man how matters stood. Besides, this is an affair which no one but myself can settle.
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