He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. ‘Can I not leave you for a day without you getting yourself into trouble?’ ‘Imbecile,’ she uttered faintly. But it is that I have a very bad temper, you understand. It’s not you—not a bit. ’ Which effectually silenced her. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants. "What is it?" "The night," she answered. They did not want her. She touched it, and her gaze lifted.
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