" "God help me, what a muddle!" The cigar crumbled in Spurlock's hand. It was an impulse. This was unscrupulous, he admitted, because he had no intention of following through on the seductive promise in his conduct. He answered with the greatest assurance, that he knew nothing whatever of the matter—had seen no pocket-book, and no associate to give up. Manning. She tipped his mouth towards her own and kissed him. A very familiar face emerged from a crowd at the impromptu bar on the kitchen island.
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