Businesswomen in pointy-toed shoes swooned coyly in his direction, tipping their noses over their glossy magazines to admire 273 him. CHAPTER I. Section 3. She was alone, and the mask of her unchanging high spirits was for the moment laid aside. ‘Do not think—’ he panted, ‘that I am finished—with you, mademoiselle. Besides, you cannot tell where it will end. " The Wastrel laughed. " "I'll give you something better worth keeping," she answered, detaching the ornament from her neck, and presenting it to him; "this contains a lock of my hair, and may remind you sometimes of your little sister.
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