A florid-looking young woman rose up and accosted him eagerly. As he crossed this chamber, his foot struck against something on the floor, which nearly threw him down, and stooping to examine the object, he found it was a key. It was astonishing how seldom it was that his instincts betrayed him. The solos were revealing, sensual and moody. Now, it was a wilderness of weeds. “I wonder,” he said, “if women do know things by instinct? I have my doubts about feminine instinct.
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