“Are you cold?” He asked her, cocking his head to one side like a puppy, so close that the heat of his words warmed her cheek. “I think,” he said, “that I would fetch any one whom he has asked to see. ” He would say every time she wore it. "Still," went on the manager, "they are slaves in a sense; they are bought and sold until their original indebtedness is paid. Perhaps some one had kissed the brow that was now so cadaverous, rubbed that sunken cheek with loving fingers, held that stringy neck with passionately living hands.
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