Still, something had marked the face, something had left an indelible touch. "Why didn't you come out when I called you, you young dog?" cried Quilt in a savage tone. "You mean you were just sorry for him?" "As I would be for any human being in pain. Wouldn't it be fun to see his name on a book-cover some day? He'll go strutting up and down without ever dreaming he owed the whole shot to us. ” “I wonder,” said Mr. ” “Did you tell him of the registry office?” “No—o—certainly not so emphatically as I did about the play. .
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