At least I imagine so, if what Madame Valade claims is true. Drink for him had a queer phase. She had never had a pet, never had a real doll. But perhaps you don't know; there was nothing in the pockets. She realized dimly that there was no personal thing behind his cry, that countless myriads of Mannings had “My God!”-ed with an equal gusto at situations as flatly apprehended. Perhaps I ought to have let you order the dinner, but I think I got through it pretty well. He had fallen off when trying to tie down his aluminum paint ladder. "I am your most unhappy son. I would have twice the problems that I have currently. Inexplicably there flashed into vision the Chinese wedding procession in the narrow, twisted streets of the city, that first day: the gorgeous palanquin, the tomtoms, the weird music, the ribald, jeering mob that trailed along behind.
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