Spurling and Marvel. “You must have heard—have you—oh, tell me, won’t you?” she begged. You’re just a particular being with nothing else in the world to class with you. There was the world besides, looming darker and larger. She was a small blonde, not handsome, but with a flair for fashion demonstrated by her elegant chemise gown in the very latest Canterbury muslin, with its low décolletage barely concealed under a fine lawn handkerchief set about her shoulders, and decorated with a mauve satin sash at the waist. "Whatever you like, Hoddy," she agreed, wiping the sweat from her forehead.
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