She kissed him on the bridge of his nose. I suppose I ought to have been a man. “You are very kind,” she said hesitatingly, “but I don’t remember—I don’t think that I know you, do I?” “I am afraid that you do not,” he admitted, with a smile which he meant to be encouraging. , and munched a roll and butter with hearty appetite. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching.
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