You called yourself a murderess. She wondered what the problem was, why the buildup? She wanted to go to his apartment that evening but stayed herself. Seven hundred forty-two dollars and eighty-one cents, the sum total of her money in the world that she hid in a filigreed cigar box shelved behind her schoolbooks. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth in paragraph 1. Their flitting hands were always touching.
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