She tried gentle words with him, beguiling perfumes, even slipped aphrodisiac tisanes into his soup. He fancied that when they had had time to reflect, they would regret it still more. Better they should find the so-called Valade. He continued thoughtfully. I done just what you asked. “His dress for no man lays a snare; A man scores always, everywhere. Romance! The romance of passing faces, of wires that carried voices and words to the far ends of the world, of tremendous mechanisms that propelled ships and trains! And, oh the beautiful books! She swiftly knelt upon the floor and once more gathered the books to her heart. Mr. Vee’s all right. From suburbs, from country towns—everywhere.
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