Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. ” In the car, John was wound up. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. The guests congregated within the night-cellar were, in fact, little better than thieves; but thieves who confined their depredations almost exclusively to the vessels lying in the pool and docks of the river. The thought of beauty became an obsession. “I have waited for this,” he said, and stood quite still, looking at her until the silence became oppressive. “John?” He turned around in the recliner.
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