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Updated: June 4, 2025
"Here take this; it makes me sick," he said abruptly, thrusting the paper at the reporter; and the two men turned and walked in silence to the gates. The End As first published in Harper's Monthly, December 1903 It was on an impulse hardly needing the arguments he found himself advancing in its favor, that Thursdale, on his way to the club, turned as usual into Mrs. Vervain's street.
"Wait not so fast," said Ferris with a laugh, yet a little annoyed that a question so purely tentative as his should have met at once such a definite response. "Are you quite sure you can do what they want?" He unfolded to him, as fully as he understood it, Mrs. Vervain's scheme. Don Ippolito entered into it with perfect intelligence.
Vervain's dinners always were, and there was a compliment to the painter in the presence of a favorite dish. When he saw this, "Well, Mrs. Vervain, what is it?" he asked. "You needn't pretend that you're treating me so well for nothing. You want something." "We want nothing but that you should not neglect your friends. We have been utterly deserted for three or four days.
"Is it the custom," asked Don Ippolito, after a moment, "for the American young ladies always to address their mammas as mother?" "No; that seems to be a peculiarity of Miss Vervain's. It's a little formality that I should say served to hold Mrs. Vervain in check." "Do you mean that it repulses her?" "Not at all.
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