I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. Once she stopped in front of a mirror and looked at herself thoughtfully. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. Hardened as he may be, that would touch him. That would be an unkind twist of fate.
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