What about them?” He called a hansom. They proved all sorts of things perhaps, but they were thick, unequal, pitiful pieces of work. Shari was snoring, the pill having worked its magic. “You’re an idiot and your attitude is repugnant. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child. “More than that, he arrived to-day at the boarding-house where I am staying, greeted me with a theatrical start, and claimed me—as his wife.
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