“Come in here a moment, will you, Blanche,” he said. “You need not be alarmed,” he said. He entered it; crossed the room, in which there was only a small truckle-bed, over which he stumbled; opened another door and gained the stair-head. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself. ” She took his hand, interrupting him. The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. ‘Typical.
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