“It was,” she admitted. ‘Ain’t my place, I know that. She turned the gas up in her little sitting-room, and sank wearily into an easy chair. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. Better even than these. ” She wondered what to. She could not go to him with a preachment against strong drink; she knew from experience that such a plan would be wasted effort. " "You're fine, too. Wood with the circumstances, and putting him upon his guard against the possibility of an attack. He had set out to win her, and she had let him start. He was smiling under his heavy mustache, and his head was a little on one side as he looked at her.
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