“You poor little girl!” he cried. "You mustn't talk any more; the excitement isn't good for you. "You must make a bold push. I didn’t! I didn’t! After all—” For a time her mind ran on daintiness and its defensive restraints as though it was the one desirable thing. ’ 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. Get out your pad and pencil.
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