If the Wastrel had not turned the instant he did, the ball would have missed him; as it was he turned directly into its path. Her feathered hat fell from her head and down her back, and she felt fingers writhing in the mass of her hair and caressing the flesh of her neck beneath so that she shivered uncontrollably. “Etherialized monkey,” she said. She confronted him with his own double-standard. “You mustn’t talk any more,” he said, “but I want you to listen to me just for a moment. CHAPTER XVIII.
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