At least for one moment, it was. She saw her aunt in tears, her father white-faced and hard hit. " CHAPTER XV. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. Paris was full, and it was by no means a retired spot which she had found. Unwillingly he drew a little nearer, and became one of the group of loiterers about the entrance. “It seems so unfair,” she said, “to take all you offer me and give so little in return. “Don’t they look like a pair of young lovers sleeping off a tryst?” He observed.
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