Arty's, for all its pretension to
superiority. Why, a lot of the pictures weren't framed! And you
should have seen the giltness and fruit-borderness of the frames
at Mrs. Arty's!
(b) That the people were brothers-in-talk to the inmates of the
flat on Great James Street, London, only far less, and friendly.
(c) That Mr. Wrenn was now a man of friends, and if the
"blooming Bohemians," as he called them, didn't like him they
were permitted to go to the dickens.
Istra was always across the room from him somehow. He found
himself glad. It made their parting definite.
He was going back to his own people, he was deciding.
As he rose with elaborate boarding-house apologies to the room
at large for going, and a cheerful but not intimate "Good night"
to Istra, she followed him to the door and into the dark long
hallway without.
"Good night, Mouse dear. I'm glad you got a chance to talk to
the Silver Girl. But was Mr. Hargis rude to you? I heard him
talking Single Tax--or was it Matisse?--and he's usually rude
when he talks about them.
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