CHAPTER XXVII His idea, cleverly planned, was to shatter her resistance, to confound her suddenly by striking her mind with words which would rob her coherent thought. Jests are not for seasons like this. “It is a secret mission,” she declared. We dressed it in a little music. She dropped the manuscripts and swiftly brought the coat to him, noting that a button hung loose. I'll have to put some pep into the game— American pep. I’d rather die than hear any more fairytales.
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