“I think we have,” he answered, gravely, and took her in his arms, and smoothed her hair from her forehead, and very tenderly kissed her lips. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “don’t!” “Why not?” she asked, smiling. . Her white shirt was mired with a central bloodstain, his pants caked with mud. She knew she was a monster and so did they. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below.
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