Breakfast was laid for one, a dish of fruit and a shining coffee equipage. "It's a great world," was the manager's greeting. " "Never!" rejoined Kneebone, with increased ardour,—"never, till I receive from your own lips the answer which is to make me the happiest or the most miserable of mankind. I do not love you. . ’ ‘I don’t, as a matter of fact,’ Gerald said decidedly, a frown creasing his brow.
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