He read but little, and that chiefly healthy light fiction with chromatic titles, The Red Sword, The Black Helmet, The Purple Robe, also in order “to distract his mind. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. She, having all the confidence in the world, ripped off an end and drew out the contents—a letter and a check. You don’t understand. He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige. “In Paris your sister appeared to me to be a charming student of frivolity.
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