"I cannot do it. He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. “Does he never speak to you of—of old times?” she faltered. I've foiled him hitherto, and will foil him yet. “I think that it is only an idea. “But, my dear,” she began, “it is Impossible! It is quite out of the Question. I will not be persecuted in this way by you. Never sent for the shirt.
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