She spoke with an entirely false note of cheerful offhandedness. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. ‘You make a game with me, I think. "You were a little out of your head. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. We've got to make him take up the harp of life and go twanging it again.
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