No hair to fall awry, no powder to displace, no ruffles to crush; men are lucky. "Tell Mr. " "It's a queer girl. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. " Ideas are never born; they are suggested; they are planted seeds. \"Oh, that's okay, I do better if I study alone. When is the game?\" She did her best to overhaul her own appearance for 63 the greater part of an hour, blotting lips, fluffing the brush over her face.
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