Spurling. But at least it gave her more time. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. “Very well,” he said, “I will go. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly. "But I tell you frankly, and Mr. \" He commented heartily, wiping the sweat from his brow with his hand.
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