It moved a trifle, stepping back and lifting an arm to rub the sleeve against the glass. His hair flew out from the sides of his head like black bats from a belfry, it was unruly and long. She leaned back in her chair. "What the devil are you howling about?" cried Langley. “I say!” he said, without any movement. I did think it could be done. This was the first young man who had drawn from her something more than speculative interest. But I trusted to that ring of yours. It was just a chance that we in particular hit against each other—nothing predestined about it.
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