He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. "Take off the ruffles, Blueskin," rejoined Wild. Her sadness was manageable only because she was so familiar with its phases, because she could observe its moods remotely, like an astronomer studying the moon. She did not want particularly to know what had caused his agony, what had driven him back to the old coat. "I hear you plotting with your wicked associates," cried Mrs.
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