Imagination, coloured by the obscurity, peopled the air with phantoms. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. His build was medium, he would never 5 tower over his peers, yet his shoulders were broadening, betrayed by an undeveloped set of pectoral muscles underneath his button-down shirt that she could tell frustrated him. " Prudence shrugged. “Well?” she said.
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