Expiation. Vee’s all right. " The prison bars of circumstance, they no longer encompassed her. The commissionaire smiled. ‘You talk together of me as if I am not there. A man's laced hat,—whether adopted from the caprice of the moment, or habitually worn, we are unable to state,—cocked knowingly on her head, harmonized with her masculine appearance. It is as if my lips had been sealed about them.
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