She felt he was going to say something more—something still more personal and intimate. By the by, my dear, I forgot to ask your name—perhaps you'll oblige me with it now? Hell and the devil!—gone!" He looked around in vain. Too late now. He carried her into his bedroom as she unfastened the tiny white buttons of his shirt. “It is, if anything, a little above the average,” Brendon admitted. He was a small, dark, reserved man, with a large inflexiblelooking convex forehead, and his wife was very pink and high-spirited, with one of those chins that pass insensibly into a full, strong neck. “I doubted my luck, at least. Wearied at length with thinking on the past, and terrified by the prospect of the future, he threw himself on the straw with which the cage was littered, and endeavoured to compose himself to slumber. Then she raised the glass nearer to her lips.
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