“That thing’s going on,” she told herself. I suppose because it IS the chief thing in life. A dozen books lay upon the counterpane. But such is the perversity of the human that frequently thereafter he purposely crooked the part in his hair, to give her the excuse to fetch the comb. One thing—he could be thankful for that—the peak of his misfortunes had been reached; the world might come to an end now and not matter in the least. We were fellow passengers from Charing Cross, and we have been fellow lodgers in the Rue d’Entrepot. The idea of leaving for Mexico had become unbearable, as he was so easy to like and perhaps even easier to love. " "Not quite," replied the manager.
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