‘Wait for me. I'm one of those unfortunate duffers who have too much imagination—the kind who build their own chimeras and then run away from them. ‘Desist, you little devil,’ he growled in her ear. "Do nothing without consulting my father—your father, Thames," she implored. Supposing she saw the young man at dinner that night, emptying his bottle? She could not go to him, sit down and draw the sordid pictures she had seen so often. My only love is for my poor lost son. Still, here we are in this dingy, foggy city.
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