She cursed the treachery of memory, its frailty and spottiness. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. Narrow little beady brown eyes, and she’s got big eyebrows like dead caterpillars. " "That's what troubles me," rejoined Ben. “You cannot seriously believe,” he said, “that at the present moment I care a snap of the fingers whether I have any dinner or not. But I never betray an old customer.
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