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“No, it was simple. ” He put his hands in his pockets, his mouth puckered to a whistle, and he went to the door of the outer preparation-room and stood there, looking, save for the faintest intensification of his natural ruddiness, the embodiment of blond serenity. A light was visible in the garret, feebly struggling through the damp atmosphere, for the night was raw and overcast. The girl suppressed a chuckle that would have been inexplicable. There was an air of repressed gaiety in her actions: the sense of freedom had returned; her heart was empty again. "How old are you?" demanded Miss Prudence. How provoking!" she added, pretending to rummage her pockets; "one never can find a thing when one wants it. “Do you think he’s still around?” She paused thoughtfully. Guns were impossible. I jumped then—I was not even shaken. She gave up as he finished, spending himself in her mouth. Lord, I am sixty. My heart fails me. "Well, it's a good story.
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