" The Wastrel rushed. And sometimes he overflowed with a peculiarly malignant wit that played, with devastating effect, upon any topics that had the courage to face it. “I don’t think I’ve ever eaten that much in my entire life, Lucy, and that’s saying something. I tried painting and couldn’t get on. Anna picked up an ancient magazine, and began to turn over the pages in a leisurely way. Was that it? Had she clothed this unhappy young man with glamour? Or was it because he was so alone? She could not get through the husks to the kernel of what really actuated her. ” “What do you mean—by too late?” he demanded.
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