“I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. There were the burnt papers still in the grate. There was a dreadful stifled groan, and she fell heavily upon the landing. During the previous night he had been restless; and in the lonely dragging hours his thoughts had raced in an endless circle—action without progress. You’re NOT to go.
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