“Go on,” he said. ” He stood before her, his hat in his hand, his head bent, his voice lowered to a convenient pitch. Here was one of those Americans who would make him breathless before sundown. He could hardly open the envelope, he trembled so. If nothing else had clinched that, the purse had. I shall take to him as nat'ral as if he were my own flesh and blood afore long. I don’t know. He took some Oreos from the bottomless supply that stocked the cookie jar. I’d only get a pack of lies in reply.
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