I can assure you, I wouldn’t be single again for worlds. I'll forgive him if he does. Their talk drifted to the beauty of music, and they took that up again at tea-time. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. The odour of kerosene permeated the bungalow; but Ruth mitigated the nuisance to some extent by burning native punk in brass jars. She gave tongue to the most urgent of her plaints.
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