’ I don’t know what you’d call it —a sort of witchery, almost suggestiveness. He took over, doing his best to rearrange his overly sensitive member back into his pants. The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography. But for all that, it offered relief; his brain, stupefied by the fumes, grew dull, and conscience lost its edge to bite. “Oh yes,” said Miss Klegg; “I thought every one knew.
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