Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. They then entered the room, which was perfectly dark. His five o’clock shadow was bristly against her fingers. That was the glorious if bewildering truth. He wore a threecornered hat, a sandy-coloured scratch wig, and had a thick woollen wrapper folded round his throat. “No,” she said at last; “I’m a human being—not a timid female.
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