"Get a chair, Austin. She gave tongue to the most urgent of her plaints. “Really?” “Would not let it go. " "My poor son!" groaned the widow, sinking backwards. 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. From head to foot he was attired in the fashionable garb of the young man of the moment. I understand. To-night they say he will be conscious. At least that, I think, is what makes a clever woman’s independent career so much more difficult than a clever man’s. His room was last at the end of one winding corner. No: I must face it out. He sent me home. ’ ‘Was it?’ Her lips twitched. Foolish compliments were tossed about like confetti.
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