” Somewhat irrelevantly he glanced at the next few boxes where the rest of Mrs. Day after day—five, to be exact—she had returned to Morgan's; and each time the man would understand what had drawn her, and with a kindly smile would sit down at the piano and play. I was grateful. Spurlock understood that his vantage would be temporary; the Wastrel had been knocked down, not out. We were talking about the suffrage—and I rather scoffed. Jiggle-joggle, jiggle-joggle…! For each pause she was grateful.
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