‘Ah, bah, it is enough,’ she cried, and turning, ran out of the room. Profligate women are never reclaimed. He felt her warm breath upon his cheek, the perfume of her hair as she leaned over him. She was perplexed by this, and stood for some seconds in the empty street hesitating, until the appearance of another circumspect woman under the street lamp at the corner reassured her. And it's uncanny. She was young and bright, little to no make-up except for lip-gloss, long, straight, glossy reddish blonde hair slightly past her shoulders.
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