\" He panted, wiping sweat off of his brow with a towel. ” He stood looking at the preparations before them with an unusual preoccupation of manner, then roused himself to take her jacket, a little awkwardly, and hand it to the waiter who hung it in the corner of the room. So many things she saw that her interest stumbled rather than leaped from object to object. Whatever he did, she was bound to scream. She read beautifully because the fixed form of the poem signified nothing. " The Wastrel advanced.
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