" The Wastrel laughed. ” Lucy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant. In a voice husky with suppressed despair, she answered. “Julian, please, let’s go to your place. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. Even in this dread moment Ruth was conscious of a pathetic interest in the scattering pencils. He shook his head.
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