"Why, how the devil did you happen to guess that?" cried the janizary. ’ ‘Je m’en moque. I do not love you. I cannot be intimate—’ stressing the word with a deep look ‘— with one I feel to be a stranger. Then she sat watching the play, sometimes offering a helpful suggestion, sometimes letting her attention wander to the smoothly shining arms she had folded across her knees just below the edge of the table.
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