The door closed softly upon her. He was and always would be dramatizing his emotions; perpetually he would be confounding his actual with his imaginary self. But for the next few days he avoided Cheveney like the plague. It's so stuffy—and all that tobacco smoke!" He inspected his watch. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. “I wonder,” he said, and went off at a tangent. Mr.
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