Something in his smile, in the cynical suggestiveness of his deferential tone, maddened her. The future was not so black. I was reduced to 170 a fool, for there were many pretty women from all walks of life in that teeming city. I have written, called—of what avail is anything—against that look. You never can go back. As he returned to the table, he put his finger to his nose; and, though he said nothing, he thought he had a much better chance of winning his wager. E.
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