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Kipling, Rudyard, 1865-1936

"From Mine Own People"

"
"I know--but--"
"But what? You've wit enough to manage the sale of it to a dealer. Women haggle
much better than men. It might be a matter of eight or nine hundred pounds to--
to us. I simply didn't like to think about it for a long time. It was mixed up
with my life so.--But we'll cover up our tracks and get rid of everything, eh?
Make a fresh start from the beginning, Bess."
Then she began to repent very much indeed, because she knew the value of money.
Still, it was probable that the blind man was overestimating the value of his
work. Gentlemen, she knew, were absurdly particular about their things. She
giggled as a nervous housemaid giggles when she tries to explain the breakage
of a pipe.
"I'm very sorry, but you remember I was--I was angry with you before Mr.
Torpenhow went away?"
"You were very angry, child; and on my word I think you had some right to be."
"Then I--but aren't you sure Mr. Torpenhow didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what? Good gracious, what are you making such a fuss about when you
might just as well be giving me another kiss?"
He was beginning to learn, not for the first time in his experience, that
kissing is a cumulative poison. The more you get of it, the more you want.


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