Relief flooded her. "Nobody has so much cause for complaint as me," growled Austin. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. Somebody to whom she would be necessary, who for days would have to depend upon her for the needs of life. His clothes were smartly pressed, his linen white, his jaws cleanly shaven; but the day would come when he would grow indifferent to bodily cleanliness. .
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