’ The expression on Emile Gosse’s face was vicious under the smile. She became angry with herself. He succeeded so well that by the time he asked for her name once more, she fluttered her lashes as coquettishly as ever. I can’t help it. He resumed his listening. There was a loose button on that coat, and I want to sew it on. I will take you for thirty-five shillings a week.
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