For a time she could scarcely believe he was gone. "Tell Mr. Only he hated the words he uttered, hated the blunt honesty which forced them from his lips. Good-bye, aunt. When he was done she kissed his cheek tenderly. . The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. “I have made no progress with my work,” she said slowly, “and the money was gone. Presently you will see that I am right, and then you shall take your vacation over here, and we will be good comrades again. Day after day she pounded him with curses, saying that her mother looked down on him from Heaven and sent a curse, to which he laughed. "Yes, Auntie! And to date you have cost me precisely sixteen thousand dollars— hard earned, every one of them.
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