\" He took his milk and cookies to bed. “I have been training myself to look askance at beautiful things. Your laugh reminds me of—of——" "Whose, Sir?" demanded Jackson, becoming suddenly grave. And there was no intimation whatever that the blinds would ever go up or the windows or doors be opened, or the chandeliers, that seemed to promise such a blaze of fire, unveiled and furnished and lit. What was the alternative to going home? No alternative appeared in that darkness.
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