Morningside Park was a suburb that had not altogether, as people say, come off. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. Even given that he was hopelessly enamoured of the wench, a fact which was obvious to the meanest intelligence. They agreed to lend her their hold-all and a large, formless bag which they called the communal trunk. “Then turn round and go back there,” she directed. " CHAPTER V. "If I could only make you realize what you have done," he said, lamely. Go off and live together—until we can marry.
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