That is what I’ve had on my conscience. It was time to disappear, no more Becks, no more Spaghetti Nights, no more afternoon kisses in the park with John Diedermayer. "Now come along, Jack. \" He commented heartily, wiping the sweat from his brow with his hand. He had absorbed her in a single glance, and was now defining her as he worked. “You will write to me, I am sure—and from the date of your letter I trust most earnestly that I may come back to my old place as “Your devoted friend, “WALTER BRENDON. "It is time!" "For what?" grumbled the latter, rubbing his eyes.
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