The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. ” “It’s the perpetual trouble,” he said, “of parent and child. So, bloody but unbeaten, weak and spent but undaunted, he waited for the Wastrel to spring up. "I warn you, if you do not send for a doctor immediately, you will have cause to regret it," Ruth declared vigorously. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. What she actually wanted was the present state of affairs to continue indefinitely.
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