"
"A boy from his shop was here a short time ago. "
On quitting the Lodge, Wild repaired to his own habitation. Twelve years, then, have elapsed since the date of the occurrences detailed in the
preceding division of this history. "Ay, murder him, if you like the term," returned Wild. The fair boy in the audience
who had waved was yet another suitor. "No, I tell you," rejoined Jonathan, shouldering his way out of the crowd. “You are absurd,” she declared. I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated
professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. She responded at once, rapping him on the knuckles with her fan. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. "How so?" asked Wild, curiously. Perhaps
the old fool was not as fanciful as they had thought.
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