But the stone was slippery; and the tide, which here began to feel the influence of the fall, was running with frightful velocity. His gray eyes were closed, his persimmon-colored lips open and panting. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. Then suddenly the curtain would fall. If individuality means anything it means breaking bounds— adventure. Below was an uninspiring street, a thoroughfare of boarding-houses and apartments. " "For mercy's sake, go on!" cried Winifred. ” She smiled at the thought.
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