Against the sinister, the threatening, monstrous inhumanity of the limitless city, there was nothing now but this supreme, ugly fact of a pursuit— the pursuit of the undesired, persistent male. ‘Oh, peste. Call her Miss Pellissier, eh? I tell you she’s my wife, and I’ve got the certificate in my pocket. I was the black sheep, I was hurried out of the way. Ill-drawn, without method or sense of proportion, you have put wonderful things on to canvas, have drawn them out of yourself, notwithstanding your mechanical inefficiency. The sing-song girl, her fiddle broken, was beating her forehead upon the floor and wailing: Ai, ai! Ai, ai! Spurlock—or Taber, as he called himself—sat slumped in a chair, staring with glazed eyes at nothing, absolutely uninterested in the confusion for which he was primarily accountable. And through it all, like a golden thread on a piece of tapestry, weaving in and out of the patterns, the unspoken longing for love. Women who Dids, and all that kind of thing. Hearing the approach of the rider, Mr. "But she is a dear," said Angelina, timidly. " "I know; but …" "And sometimes you say out loud: 'That's great stuff!' I never make any sound.
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