He yielded his place and struck instead with his tongue. He tore it down just as the Wastrel rose, wavering slightly. It begins with that queer piccolo solo. “I like your brother better than any other man I know,” Anna said at last. “John, did those roses cost a fortune?” “Like I’m going to tell you!” “Oh, John, they were so pretty, but they must have cost an arm and a leg, and you should be saving for college. She softened her tone and scrambled for the right words. Would you tell her … now?" his eyes flaming with mockery.
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