‘I didn’t mean to hurt you so badly,’ he said, still meeting her eyes, unaware that his hold about her hand had tightened a little. One transgression; he was sure of that. She required no instructions from books; her wit and beauty were her own. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers.
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