“You go home and think of all this,” he said, “and talk about it to-morrow. " For some reason she did not then understand, Ruth did not offer the information that Taber had another name. The manager twisted his moustache. Stanley was inclined to think the censorship should be extended to the supply of what he styled latter-day fiction; good wholesome stories were being ousted, he said, by “vicious, corrupting stuff” that “left a bad taste in the mouth. “Shot through the lungs,” he remarked. My father has made every possible inquiry, and offered large rewards; but has not been able to discover the slightest trace of him. The tall, blond boys, right?” “That’s them. We had better have it over. “What can one say?” she exclaimed. “Just like old times,” she thought sardonically.
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