. ’ ‘Don’t start arguing again, for God’s sake,’ snapped Roding irritably, dragging out his own large pocket-handkerchief. Stanley in person. She had never had a pet, never had a real doll. ‘But we—mon mari and myself—we have the bonne chance. See paragraph 1. The room was intimate and wonderful to her with its shadows now cast over the girlish menagerie of stuffed animals. No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky.
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