Though Gerald must suppose it was inevitable she should eventually come here. She thought of the suitcase, the seventy-seven dollars for a Greyhound ticket that had expired. “In the first place, I have no objection to the posters, as they have no name on them, but I do not wish to appear at all upon the stage as ‘Alcide. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. “Can’t you SEE how things are?” she said. "Oh, easily enough," rejoined the other. She had once reconciled in her mind that she was happy as long as she had him.
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