"Look at it!" he felt like screaming. “Here is my card. "Don't go, I beg of you!" she implored. . But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. Their momentary absence seemed to have worked wonders; for now the most perfect understanding appeared to subsist between them. Just what in the world was that about? Before he could hazard a guess, Lucy looked back at him. “But, of course, she may have come from one of the other flats. ’ She had given nothing away.
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