But not once in these ten years had they borne blossom or fruit. Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. If only Gerald would come. This too shall pass. It is the health of a stranger,—of Mr. It was the last thing she felt like drinking. The houses were older, the shops gloomier, and the thoroughfare narrower, it is true; but the bustle, the crowd, the street-like air was the same. " "I will be there," answered Trenchard, gloomily. Here she would find candy awaiting her, bits of ribbon, books.
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