McClintock had brought from Penang three mangosteen evergreens; and, wonders of wonders, they had thrived —as trees. ” He left her where she was, crying in the doorway. “They’re all doing great. She would write to Gerald. That had shut him up for a while. Yet she could not bring herself to hate the girl, or even Gianfrancesco, the one who would have sent her to her death more than once. No blowzy barmaids for him to-day: an American bar-keep to whom he could tell his troubles and receive the proper meed of sympathy. By a tacit agreement they ignored the significant thing between them, ignored the slipping away of the ground on which they had stood together hitherto. She would then partially recall the items that she had heard about him, presenting each at the angle that was the most likely to inflict pain.
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