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In the struggle, Mrs. She calls us her guests, but in reality we are her prisoners. ” The girl sat up and looked at him with a curious twist at the corners of her mouth —humorous or pathetic, he could not tell which. That was odd: when young people were joyous, they had to express it physically. “Is that not rather a profitless speculation, my friend?” He seemed deaf to her interruption. Wait a second. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them. Tight. But at the beginning of the affray, when he thought every one was too much occupied with his own concerns to remark his absence, he slipped out of the room, not for the purpose of avoiding the engagement (for cowardice was not one of his failings), but because he had another object in view.
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