The City worried him a good deal, and what energy he had left over he spent partly in golf, a game he treated very seriously, and partly in the practices of microscopic petrography. "Vat ish it, Mishter Vild?" inquired Mendez. And she buried herself beneath the straw, which she tossed above her head with the wildest gestures. Never again to be alone! To fit herself into this man's life as a hand into a glove; to use all her skill to force him into the position of depending upon her utterly; to be the spark to the divine fire! He should have his book, even if it had to be written with her heart's blood. “Where should we go?” Knowing that they would be dogged wherever they went, she volunteered, “Let’s go to the Big Apple. Not the explosive vigour of the north-born, but that which would quietly meet physical hardships and bear them triumphantly.
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