’ ‘I do. ” “I’m not. "Not materially, Mr. Earles said persuasively. Instinctively she had fallen into the posture of the poster, her hands behind her, her head bent slightly forward, her chin uplifted, her eyes bright with the drollery of the song. Even Capes had been for her merely an excitant to passionate love—a mere idol at whose feet one could enjoy imaginative wallowings. He grunted a little with effort, and she realised the gilt frame must be heavy. She remembered abruptly that she was really living upon his money. The Ragged Edge.
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