She lunched at a creamery in Great Portland Street, and as the day was full of wintry sunshine, spent the rest of the lunch-hour in a drowsy gloom, which she imagined to be thought upon the problems of her position, on a seat in Regent’s Park. After all, the Wastrel was in luck: he was alone. " "Very right, my love," said Wood, "very sensibly remarked. You will never be happy with this hanging over you. She had flung away from her father’s support with the finest assumption of personal independence.
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