She glanced at the soft-ticking clock with the exposed brass pendulum upon the white marble mantel, and made a rapid calculation. All the world about her seemed to be—how can one put it?—in wrappers, like a house when people leave it in the summer. The Wastrel, his eyes full of humorous evil, stood inside the room. " "All right; and thank you. "Not as I loved mine. B.
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