“Really, I do not know why I should have doubted it. She perceived she had never really thought of any one but herself in all her acts and plans. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. Perhaps," she added, in a whisper, as she appropriated the beforenamed article, "he has a pocket-book. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked.
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