ToC "At length this tragedy is at an end," said Mr. Lucy's grin faded. " The Wastrel tried to reach Ruth's lips. You ought to know that. Availing himself of certain inequalities in the door, he soon managed to climb up to the roof; and securing his feet against a slight projection in the wall, began to use the fork with great effect. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. We, ourselves, are scarcely the same we were twelve years ago. This made the eleventh.
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