“Don’t!” she said, weakly, as he had bent down and put one arm about her and seized her hands with his disengaged hand and kissed her—kissed her almost upon her lips. 156 He followed, “Um, is it okay if we talk in private for a few minutes somewhere?” Cathy was quick to reply. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin.
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