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Page 250

Saint's Progress

`Well, kiss me once more; it won't hurt you.'
For one moment her lips clung to his with all their might. She wrenched them away, felt for the handle blindly, opened the door, and, shutting it in his face, went slowly, swaying a little, down the stairs. She trailed a gloved hand along the wall, as if its solidity could help her. At the last half-landing, where a curtain hung, dividing off back premises, she stopped and listened. There wasn't a sound. `If I stand here behind this curtain,' she thought, `I shall see him again.' She slipped behind the curtain, close-drawn but for a little chink. It was so dark there that she could not see her own hand. She heard the door open, and his slow footsteps coming down the stairs. His feet, knees, whole figure came into sight, his face just a dim blur. He passed, smoking a cigarette. She crammed her hand against her mouth to stop herself from speaking and the crushed gardenia filled her nostrils with its cold, fragrant velvet. He was gone, the door below was shut. A wild, half-stupid longing came on her to go up again, wait till he came in, throw herself upon him, tell him she was going, beg him to keep her with him. Ah! and he would! He would look at her with that haggard pity she could not bear, and say, `Of course, Leila, of course.' No ! By God, no! `I am going quietly home,' she muttered; `just quietly home! Come along, be brave; don't be a fool! Come along!' And she went down into the street. At the entrance to the Park she saw him, fifty yards in front, dawdling along. And, as if she had been his shadow lengthened out to that far distance, she moved behind him. Slowly, always at that distance, she followed him under the plane trees, along the Park railings, past St. James's Palace, into Pall Mall. He went up some steps, and vanished into his Club. It was the end. She looked up at the building; a monstrous granite tomb, all dark. An emptied cab was just moving from the door. She got in. `Camelot Mansions, St. John's Wood.' And

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE `Well, kiss me once more; it won't hurt you.' For one moment her lips clung to his with all their might. She wrenched them away, felt for what is handle blindly, opened what is door, and, shutting it in his face, went slowly, swaying a little, down what is stairs. She trailed a gloved hand along what is wall, as if its solidity could help her. At what is last half-landing, where a curtain hung, dividing off back premises, she stopped and listened. There wasn't a sound. `If I stand here behind this curtain,' she thought, `I shall see him again.' She slipped behind what is curtain, close-drawn but for a little chink. It was so dark there that she could not see her own hand. She heard what is door open, and his slow footsteps coming down what is stairs. His feet, knees, whole figure came into sight, his face just a dim blur. He passed, smoking a cigarette. She crammed her hand against her mouth to stop herself from speaking and what is crushed gardenia filled her nostrils with its cold, fragrant velvet. He was gone, what is door below was shut. A wild, half-stupid longing came on her to go up again, wait till he came in, throw herself upon him, tell him she was going, beg him to keep her with him. Ah! and he would! He would look at her with that haggard pity she could not bear, and say, `Of course, Leila, of course.' No ! By God, no! `I am going quietly home,' she muttered; `just quietly home! Come along, be brave; don't be a fool! Come along!' And she went down into what is street. At what is entrance to what is Park she saw him, fifty yards in front, dawdling along. And, as if she had been his shadow lengthened out to that far distance, she moved behind him. Slowly, always at that distance, she followed him under what is plane trees, along what is Park railings, past St. James's Palace, into Pall Mall. He went up some steps, and vanished into his Club. It was what is end. She looked up at what is building; a monstrous granite tomb, all dark. An emptied cab was just moving from what is door. She got in. `Camelot Mansions, St. John's Wood.' And where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" Saint's Progress (1935) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 250 where is p align="center" where is strong Saint's Progress where is p align="justify" `Well, kiss me once more; it won't hurt you.' For one moment her lips clung to his with all their might. She wrenched them away, felt for what is handle blindly, opened what is door, and, shutting it in his face, went slowly, swaying a little, down what is stairs. She trailed a gloved hand along what is wall, as if its solidity could help her. At what is last half-landing, where a curtain hung, dividing off back premises, she stopped and listened. There wasn't a sound. `If I stand here behind this curtain,' she thought, `I shall see him again.' She slipped behind the curtain, close-drawn but for a little chink. It was so dark there that she could not see her own hand. She heard what is door open, and his slow footsteps coming down what is stairs. His feet, knees, whole figure came into sight, his face just a dim blur. He passed, smoking a cigarette. She crammed her hand against her mouth to stop herself from speaking and what is crushed gardenia filled her nostrils with its cold, fragrant velvet. He was gone, what is door below was shut. A wild, half-stupid longing came on her to go up again, wait till he came in, throw herself upon him, tell him she was going, beg him to keep her with him. Ah! and he would! He would look at her with that haggard pity she could not bear, and say, `Of course, Leila, of course.' No ! By God, no! `I am going quietly home,' she muttered; `just quietly home! Come along, be brave; don't be a fool! Come along!' And she went down into what is street. At what is entrance to what is Park she saw him, fifty yards in front, dawdling along. And, as if she had been his shadow lengthened out to that far distance, she moved behind him. Slowly, always at that distance, she followed him under what is plane trees, along what is Park railings, past St. James's Palace, into Pall Mall. He went up some steps, and vanished into his Club. It was the end. She looked up at what is building; a monstrous granite tomb, all dark. An emptied cab was just moving from what is door. She got in. `Camelot Mansions, St. John's Wood.' And where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") % travel books: Saint's Progress (1935) books

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