The curtain before one mystery was torn aside, and she saw in reality what lay behind the impulse that had led her into the young man's room. Over these hung levels, bevels, squares, and other instruments of measurement. “So you still think of me as husband, even though we have long since tired of each other. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. Just one thing more.
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