" "Tush!" cried Thames; "you accused me to skreen yourself. "Enough's as good as a feast. " He had now gained the high road. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. He could not kiss Ruth because the acquired conscience—struggling on its way to limbo—made the idea repellant. Don't feel fussed upon my account. ‘Now then, Gerald, out with it.
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