The lips of the mask twisted upward into a smile. ” “No doubt. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. She knew, or guessed his mission too, for more than once their eyes met, and she laughed mockingly at him. Besides, it did not fit her well, which was why the loose wimple had slipped. Death belongs to God, young man. I shall always be kind to him; I sha'n't bait him.
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