“You shall,” she said. What'll you be doing?" "What can I do?" asked Spurlock, raising his haggard face. " "Oh, God!" cried Jack, "she does not know me. You were afraid of me, afraid that I should have been shocked, afraid of the scandal. En tout cas, we are not talking of that kiss, but of this one. That handsome, finely drawn face belonged to a soul with clean ideals. What’s that?” They both stood listening. Far away there was the one woman for this boy of mine—some human being who would understand the dear fool better than all the rest of the world. He drove her home that night, kissing her again and again at stoplights.
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