“I have to go out. " "I'll bet she still smells to heaven with sour coconut. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair. He, for his part, was trying to grasp the series of unexpected reactions that had so wrecked their tete-a-tete. Suddenly the Wastrel took hold of the edge and flung the table aside. He depended upon her, for his medicine, for his drink, for the little amusement it was now permissible to give him.
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