" "Peace, fool!" cried Marvel, angrily. And then this girl had to sweep into and out of his life! He recalled McClintock's comment about Spurlock being the kind that fell soft. "Search him and iron him afresh;" commanded Jonathan. Her acrid rose perfume oil that hung in the air that smelled like a head shop, her V. To-night the subtle suggestiveness of those few daring lines, fascinating in their very simplicity, the head thrown back, the half-closed eyes—the inner meaning of the great artist seemed to come to him with a rush.
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