" "Are you man, or fiend?" exclaimed Trenchard, staring at the stranger, as he concluded his narration. “I am happy. Bought the freedom of a sing-song girl; and all the while you knew you'd have to tote the girl back. They joined the rabble of aspiring James Deans in torn jeans and bomber jackets and girls with Clairol black hair smoking clove cigarettes. Perhaps her odd beauty—and that too was natural—stirred these thoughts into being. ’ Was there a careful note in her voice? Gerald gave no sign, keeping his own tone light. She followed Oxford Street into Holborn, and then she inquired for Chancery Lane. She kissed him with a closed mouth, not as recklessly as she was tempted to do. These interests her world promptly, through the agency of schoolmistresses, older school-mates, her aunt, and a number of other responsible and authoritative people, assured her she must on no account think about.
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