4. I needed a man the worst kind of way—a man I could keep for at least six months. His stories had enchanted her, even if in some deep corner of her heart she guessed they were not entirely true. Now, he had achieved them, and felt assured of success. But there was something in his face at once stupid and invincible that told her he would go on forcing himself upon her, that he would esteem speech with her a great point gained. To her chagrin, he ignored her, and turned a venomous eye on his betrothed. For Manning it would be a more temperate love altogether. The doorman replied, tipping his cap, “I don’t speak much Italian these days, not since my mother died. .
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