As she approached the corner of the Avenue the blond, no-hatted man in gray flannels appeared. So he sharpened a score of pencils, and after fiddling about and rewriting the last page he had written the previous night, he plunged into work. Her white shirt was ridiculously utilitarian, but fitted in all the right places, he smirked. It was still too dark for reading, but she could see well enough to note the number of the last page—fifty-six. ” She breathed relief.
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