He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. " "The boy's not at my house," replied Wild. Presently he began to weave a tale, sorry enough, with all the ancient claptraps and rusted platitudes. “Would YOU like us—if some one told you the bare outline of our story?— and what we are doing?” “I shouldn’t mind,” said Ann Veronica. He leaned forward to better drink her in.
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