” “It came,” he said. \"This is my best friend, Mark. CHAPTER XVI. Nor must it be imagined, that while he thus exercised his teeth, he neglected the flagon. " The Wastrel rushed. He was content to watch her accepting compliments and gaudy bouquets full of red roses, white carnations, and purple statice. . The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled.
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