" The Wastrel laughed. " This went on for ten days. Lucy acted the part of savoring the end of the meal, but it was difficult. “We mustn’t have any unpleasantness, and Mr. Wood, I desire you'll put on your best things, and join us as soon as possible. All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. The fragrance of dryer sheets lay upon her like the snow that now drifted peacefully outside. He came along, he said, just to call, with large, loud apologies, radiantly kind and good. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. All he will say is that she said so—as if anyone could believe a word the girl said.
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