Her hair was of the darkest brown, and finest texture; and, when unloosed, hung down to her heels. “You can’t imagine,” he said, “what a beastly thing a furtive love affair can be. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. At the same time he comprehended that she was as pure and lovely as the white orchid of Borneo and that she did not carry that ridiculous shield called false modesty. ” “Very well,” he said. “I have had adventures—oh, more than one, I can assure you. My son went down after his death.
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