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" "I feel I have, dear Winny!" replied Thames, abashed at his own rudeness; "my conduct is inexcusable. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. No, let us dine here, and then go and have our coffee on the boulevards. \" They talked until midnight most nights. She was as lovely in the spirit as in the flesh. Heaven forbid. Then he turned on his heel and walked off. When he comes he will do that raid of the pantechnicons the justice it deserves; he will picture the orderly evening scene about the Imperial Legislature in convincing detail, the coming and going of cabs and motor-cabs and broughams through the chill, damp evening into New Palace Yard, the reinforced but untroubled and unsuspecting police about the entries of those great buildings whose square and panelled Victorian Gothic streams up from the glare of the lamps into the murkiness of the night; Big Ben shining overhead, an unassailable beacon, and the incidental traffic of Westminster, cabs, carts, and glowing omnibuses going to and from the bridge. “Do you know that boy very well, Shar?” Cathy Beck yelled in the general direction of the lavatory. Smith will tell you I'm misinformed, also, on that point. Though meant to produce a totally different effect, the narrative seemed to excite the risible propensities rather than the commiseration of his auditor; and when Mr.
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