I'm thinking that the Wastrel was one day a celebrated professional; and the women were partly the cause of his fall. It was a refusal of expediency, he said, and not an absolute refusal. She ran down alleyways and between buildings, faster than an Olympian, until she could hear his voice no more. She was the actress his whim had chosen to play a passive part. No matter how often she came across this phase in love stories, there was never anything explanatory: as if all human beings perfectly understood. don’t have time. He had been ill; no matter about that: he recollected every thought that had led up to it and every act that had consummated the deed. She leaned back in the corner of the cab with a little sigh of relief. And at length her penultimate day in Morningside Park dawned for her.
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