” “Don’t tempt me,” she said, laughing, and drawing her opera-cloak together. “I will not ask you to explain further. He himself, middle-aged, steeped in traditions of the City and moneymaking, very ill-skilled in all the lighter graces of life, as he himself well knew, could yet come to her invested with something of the halo of romance by the almost magical powers of an unlimited banking account. “Because I know for a fact that she was having sex with Gary Rothko during homecoming Freshman year and she let him pork her up the ass. Good-bye, for the pressent—ha! ha!" And, laughing loudly at his own facetiousness, he quitted the Lodge. She laughed. V. Spurlock. He was a civil servant of some standing, and after a previous conversation upon aesthetics of a sententious, nebulous, and sympathetic character, he had sent her a small volume, which he described as the fruits of his leisure and which was as a matter of fact rather carefully finished verse.
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