"You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. It was as if Grace-church Street, with all its shops, its magazines, and ceaseless throng of passengers, were stretched from the Middlesex to the Surrey shore. No girl with a face like that…. He had a blue overstuffed couch, his own television, even a computer with its own desk.
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