He returned figuratively to his bed—the bed he had made for himself and in which he must for ever lie. “What night will you dine and go to the theatre with me?—and how about Hurlingham on Saturday?” Anna shook her head. Stanley’s pace slackened. It is we who have become the parasites and toys. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. ” The girl sat up and looked at him with a curious twist at the corners of her mouth —humorous or pathetic, he could not tell which.
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