He’s nice. Businesswomen in pointy-toed shoes swooned coyly in his direction, tipping their noses over their glossy magazines to admire 273 him. She wondered who the girl might belong to as she patted dirt over the shallow grave. The person, shortly afterwards ushered into the room, seemed by the imperfect light,—for the evening was advancing, and the chamber darkened by heavy drapery,—to be a middle-sized middle-aged man, of rather vulgar appearance, but with a very shrewd aspect. He could neither stifle nor deaden that. ” “Out with it, then,” he cried, almost roughly.
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