“You ARE a female thing at bottom,” he admitted. ’ ‘Must we talk of it? I’m trying to forget it. “Well,” she said. She even thought that perhaps she might come to love him, in spite of that faint indefinable flavor of absurdity that pervaded his courtly bearing. The glance, which he threw at the door, was singularly expressive of his character: it was a mixture of alarm, effrontery, and resolution. Huge trees obscured the view of it. I wouldn't trust a Malay, not if he were reared in the Vatican.
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