\"He still likes you, I believe. “Have to take your turn,” he remarked laconically. She came to London, and tried several things without any success. And here he was, but a hundred yards away, this wastrel who trailed his genius through the mud. And then, as she stood there, with the fragments of the torn canvas at her feet, some even caught upon her skirt, the door was thrown open, and a girl entered humming a light tune. And Mrs. ‘You wish a reason for jealousy? Eh bien, you may have it. Ashen blonde, a shade that would never excite the cynical commentary which men applied to certain types of blondes. Oh, the beautiful books! Romance, adventure, love stories! She gathered up the books in her arms and cuddled them, as a mother might have cuddled a child.
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