He kissed her fingers and grinned. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. He came to her at once, and turning, walked by her side. A bad one in a rough-and-tumble; all the water-front tricks. Maggot. Her figure, though slight, had all the fulness of health; and her complexion—still pale, but without its former sickly cast,—contrasted agreeably, by its extreme fairness, with the dark brows and darker lashes that shaded eyes which, if they had lost some of their original brilliancy, had gained infinitely more in the soft and chastened lustre that replaced it. Nothing seemed to be amiss. She rolled to one side. She wasn’t sure of herself when she said it. ” He then slipped a diamond ring on her finger.
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