“Tiffany’s?” He looked at her comically. Of course she had often heard sailors hammering out their ditties. Jack, whose clothes were covered with dust, and whose face was deathly pale from his recent exertion, looked more like a phantom than a living person. “With your permission,” he said to Anna, “I shall arrange a bed for him where he is. He began a jerky, broken conversation that lasted until they reached the station, and left her puzzled at its drift and meaning. And I was altogether disgusted when he kissed me.
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