“My wife. They’re in grad school and they both live in New York. For a while they stood there, silent, motionless, staring at the doorway where still a few strings of the bamboo curtain swayed and twisted, agitated by the Wastrel's passage. He never cries nor frets, as children generally do, but lies at my bosom, or on my knee, as quiet and as gentle as you see him now. And now I've another job for you. It was the gratification of an immense necessity. I suspect he has been at work upon those he has on. “Rhea will return soon. “You have forgotten. Mr. "Aye—to pretend to her that you don't care.
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