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I flirted my jeweled fan at him and swept him a courtesy. Cool? No, I wasn't. Not a bit of it. He was daffy with the sight of me in all that glory, and I knew it. "Nance," he whispered, "you wonderful girl, if I didn't know about that little thief up at the Bronsonia I'd I'd marry you alive, just for the fun of piling pretty things on you." "The deuce you would!"
Nancy Olden, with her hands dripping, and not a lie in her smart mouth! He picked up the bills I had dropped, counted them and put them in his pocket. Then he unhooked a telephone and lifted the stand from his desk. "Hello! Spring 3100 please. Hello! Chief's office? This is Obermuller, Standard Theater. I want an officer to take charge of a thief I've caught in my apartments here at the Bronsonia.
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