’ She set down her glass with a snap. He seemed to have expected them. Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male. He walked across the Park and called upon his sister. He would sit in his inner office and compose conversations with her, penetrating, illuminating, and nearly conclusive—conversations that never proved to be of the slightest use at all with her when he met her face to face. . “I say!” he cried. Don't shake so. ” “But, my dear Peter!” said Miss Stanley. After that consolations fled. She spent a very disagreeable afternoon and evening—it was raining fast outside, and she had very unwisely left her soundest pair of boots in the boothole of her father’s house in Morningside Park—thinking over the economic situation and planning a course of action. “Ann Veronica,” he said. One cannot successfully argue with a drunken man.
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