“His dress for no man lays a snare; A man scores always, everywhere. Alarmed by the noise of the scuffle, Quilt and Sharples rushed to the assistance of their comrade. Your mother, for instance, couldn’t. Even in her own sorry skin-and-bones state of wraithlike pallor and gray under eye circles she was drawing unwanted attention from would-be admirers. ’ She smiled on the last words, adding, ‘Oh, I don’t blame you for trying.
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