She wedged the towel between her legs. " "Help me through at all hazards, Poll," cried Jack, straining towards the opening. The second look told me I was wrong. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. All her tender lures, inherent and acquired, had shattered themselves futilely against the reserve he had set between them.
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