’ ‘Dieu du ciel! But this is catastrophe. Twice he cleaned the old briar; still there was no improvement. He looked at her for a moment in a puzzled sort of way. "Back!" he cried fiercely. Fresh flowers of loveliness have budded, expanded, died. "Won't you take these?" For a space he merely stared at her, perhaps wondering if she were real. Fast and Loose 415 XXIII. He stood upon the threshold, dangling his eye-glasses in his fingers, stolid, imperturbable, mildly interrogative.
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