The Wastrel—as we call him—cannot play when he's sober; hands too shaky. Where I am in error, you can set me right. gutenberg. Ann Veronica looked up at him and found him regarding her with eyes that were almost woebegone, and into which, indeed, he was trying to throw much more expression than they could carry. ’ ‘You speak it very well,’ Gerald said encouragingly. “There are some people,” he said at last, “who seem fated to carry on their shoulders the burdens of other people. Here was no crooked soul; a little weak perhaps, impulsive beyond common, but fundamentally honest. The blow had brought him back to the realm of sober thought.
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