He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. “Most of it is ugly and frowsy,” she declared, “but it isn’t worth talking about. " There was a brief, breathless pause. "It is droll," he said. CHAPTER III. "What can it matter to you whether he returns or not, child," rejoined Mrs. “I’m so glad my Mom’s letting me go out tonight. There never is much left for me.
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