“Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner. Understand me. She sat there, a mark for boulevarders, the unconscious object of numberless wondering glances. One doesn’t realize that even the sort of civilization one has at Morningside Park is held together with difficulty. Part 8 And as she sat on her bed that night, musing and half-undressed, she began to run one hand down her arm and scrutinize the soft flow of muscle under her skin. She remained for some seconds crouching at the fender, poker in hand.
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