Turning, she heaved at the bottom door and slammed it in his face just as he came leaping forward to grab her. “I believe,” he said slowly, “that I shall do best to throw myself upon your consideration and tell you the truth. "I was afraid it would be so. “But Julian, we don’t even know each other!” She exclaimed. She would be surrendering to all her impulses—particularly the good impulses—many of which society had condemned long since because they entailed too much trouble. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. Here one might live the life of golden days. A victim of one of those mental typhoons that scatter irretrievably the barriers of instinct and breeding; and he had gone on the rocks all in a moment.
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