"Nothing whatever," rejoined the thief-taker, coldly. I’ve had it, Sheila. So I undertook to protect her by keeping love out of her life, by crushing it whenever it appeared, obliterating it. Stanley came home at a quarter to six—an earlier train by fifteen minutes than he affected—his sister met him in the hall with a hushed expression. What a girl of sixteen cares for is hair and a high color and moonlight and a tenor voice.
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