You call it a lot of nicknames—“Babs” and “Bibs” and “Viddles” and “Vee”; you whack at it playfully, and it whacks you back. For so far she had kept it uncashed. She pulled her veil down, and he knew that silence was best. She dropped the locket into its sweet hiding place. The violence of the collision nearly threw him backwards, and caused him to swerve as he sprang. One cannot trust any man at all. She veiled her emotion by taking off his overcoat.
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