He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. She slid her cheek down the tweed sleeve of his coat. He knew my name, and also that I had been living in Paris, and a man doesn’t risk claiming a girl for his wife, as a rule, for nothing. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. "But, I should think, after the specimen you've just given of your amiable disposition, no person would be likely to saddle himself with such an incumbrance. "If there is any honour in you, stop and think.
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