The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end. "What for?" demanded Wood. I wish”— she found she had embarked on a bad sentence—“I wish we needn’t have quarrelled. ’ ‘What?’ Roding’s glare tried Gerald’s control severely, but he pursued his theme unheeding. She did most urgently desire to save her face in Morningside Park, and for long hours she could think of no way of putting it that would not be in the nature of unconditional admission of defeat.
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