He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. “You know what? You’re right. I'm no great judge of these articles, Ma'am; but I trust to your honour not to palm off paste upon me. ‘They’ve gone, miss,’ came the answer, muffled through the panel door. “You hear him?” he remarked, looking impressively around. "Ja, ja, Muntmeester," said the Dutchman, removing the pipe from his mouth, and speaking in a deep and guttural voice, "leave the affair to Johannes. He had the same dark eyes, though lighted by a fierce flame; the same sallow complexion; the same tall, thin figure, and majestic demeanour; the same proud cast of features. But we've got to cook up some kind of a story to protect her. The movie droned on, the sounds becoming manageable except for the frequent high-pitched screams of young girls when a poltergeist manifestation would leap out of a shadow. They are blinded to all fine and subtle things —they look at life with bloodshot eyes and dilated nostrils.
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