Ain't we, partner?" he added, appealing to Langley, whom punch had made rather dozy. Occasionally he relit his pipe. The walls were pristine white and unmarked except for two sconces and a rather colorless Monet poster that had been framed in an expensive oak surround. Had it come already? Chapter XXVII JOHN FERRINGHAM, GENTLEMAN “Confess, my dear husband,” Annabel said lightly, “that you are bewildered. Indeed, a note of weeping broke her voice for a moment as she burst out, “You know as well as I do that money was a loan!” “Loan!” “You yourself called it a loan!” “Euphuism. "You're only twenty—not legally of age. ‘Odds were against it.
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