Stanley allowed his paper to drop a little, and scrutinized the hats and brows of their three fellow-travellers. "You must be a cleverer lad than even I take you for, if you get out of this place. A corner could hold the promise of a shelf of dainty crystals, volcanic ices of rainbow colors, or figurines of saints sculpted from horn and bone reenacting their martyrdoms on delicate miniature wooden stages. “He looks as though he did, at any rate. Toys! Delicate trifles! A sex of invalids. . She doubted how she stood toward him and what the restrained gleam of his face might signify. . “That,” he said, grimly, with his hand on the doorhandle, “must be your own affair, unless you choose to live at Morningside Park. What you said wanted saying.
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