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She had felt very uncomfortable around him, grotesque. His face darkened. She did not think for one moment what interpretation he might put upon the word “lover. It never seems to enter their heads to try and amuse their menkind. ” Sir John smiled and congratulated himself upon his insight. He had been dreaming of Ruth—an old recurrency of that dream he had had in Canton, of Ruth leading him to the top of the mountain. How's that strike you?" "Very well, sir. Katy’s face was vapid and undistinguishable from a crowd, but pretty in an abstract sense, like the face of a baby doll. ‘You damned little fool! How dared you steal my sword?’ Her eyes flew open. He walked through the misty September night to his rooms.
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