The more haste, the worse speed—better the feet slip than the tongue. He sent a speculative glance at the immobile yellow face. She went to a dramatic agent, and he turned out to be the one who had heard me sing in Paris. There happened that year to be an unusual proportion of girls and women in the advanced laboratory, perhaps because the class as a whole was an exceptionally small one. “My word holds,” she said. A moment before he had been a strong man, she had been in his power, a poor helpless thing.
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