"I'm your dupe no longer. It was a habit of his to talk to himself. Sydney was strumming over a new song which stood upon the piano. Weeks hurled past, weeks that turned into months. “Excellent fellow!” he answered a little irrelevantly. Leaning upon a gate he looked down into the valley. You might tell the truth to some men, but never to him. “You are too good for me,” she said in a low voice. “Is that okay with you? To go down to the station with him?” “I’ll go with him, Larry. To think of him as loving her would make all that different. “Your mother was a Gypsy.
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