She wished she could steal his smiles and keep them in a box, they had always been so precious. ” The idea struck him as novel. But you belong to me—and I want you. That’s got his nerves to rags. For a time he heard no more, and stared with stony eyes at a Book-War proclamation in leaded type that filled half a column of the Times that day. I have slept with it under my pillow.
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