Wagstaff. ” “And what are you doing here?” the lady asked. Yet you make our Bohemianism seem like a vulgar thing. Mrs. ‘That’s what started the fracas,’ Gerald admitted ruefully, nursing his injured hand as he recalled it. Upon this young fellow's face there were no wrinkles, only shadows, in the hollows of the cheeks and under the eyes. She would always be waiting upon this boy, he mused.
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