His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. ” “It is my wish to be alone,” she said wearily. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. " "I wish I could, Joan," returned the carpenter, sadly. “Would you stand it? I’m going to clear out. ” “Why did you tell me? I thought—I thought we were going to be friends.
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