“That’s not. The idea of leaving for Mexico had become unbearable, as he was so easy to like and perhaps even easier to love. Let your father—if he chooses, leave all his wealth to his adopted son. “Sit down,” he said, and perused—“perused” is the word for it—for some moments. She had a feeling at his departure as of an immense cavity, of something enormously gone; she could not tell whether it was infinite regret or infinite relief. Rummage, my boy, do. For hats that fail and hats that flare; Toppers their universal wear; A man scores always, everywhere. I’ve had it, Sheila. laws alone swamp our small staff.
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