With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long. She whispered, “Another car is coming,” as lights approached their car. He had heard this talk before. His hair is oddly streaked with gray —I might say a dishonourable gray. "She's glorious!" He knew that he must hoodwink this keeneyed Scot, even as he must hoodwink everybody: publicly, the devoted husband; privately, the celibate.
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