She closed her eyes and felt again an echo of the swamping warmth that had attacked her when his lips met hers. Sharples," replied Quilt; "lock 'em up. ” She relented. The comparisons upon which she could draw were few and confusingly new, mixed with reality and the loose artistic conceptions of heroes in fiction. Never again would he repeat that kiss; but at night when they separated, he would touch her forehead with his lips, and sometimes he would hold her hand in his and pat it.
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