How perfectly charming. He felt like a boy again, the taste for adventures was keen upon his palate, the whole undiscovered world of rhythmical things, of love and poetry and passion seemed again to him a real and actual place, and he himself an adventurer upon the threshold. At any rate, he began to deliberately personate him. I see. Sheila had dropped glaring hints that she knew, which Chuck tacitly acknowledged with a lowered gaze. She heard him come in; the light burned on. The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. It was partly to pay a grudge he had against father. It may be a long string, long enough if you like to tangle up all sorts of people; but there it is! If the paymaster pulls, home she must go. Drink this!” He poured out a glass of wine with a firm hand, and held it to her lips. There were doorways to peer into, dim cluttered holes with shadowy forms moving about, potters and rug-weavers.
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