With trembling fingers she opened the post-bag. "No; I don't think I'd laugh. You know they say, as, indeed, I have just quoted already, that all bad poetry is written in a state of emotion, but I have no doubt that this is true of bad offers of marriage. Everything. McClintock would bang his fist upon the table. "Dawn Pearl!… come here!" She moved to the side of the bed. Indeed, a note of weeping broke her voice for a moment as she burst out, “You know as well as I do that money was a loan!” “Loan!” “You yourself called it a loan!” “Euphuism. Then she examined with curiosity some knick-knacks upon a small round table by her side. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. Unless there was some real metal in the young fool, some hidden strength with which to breast the current, Ruth would become a millstone around his neck and soon he would become to her an object of pity and contempt.
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