He would ask her to come to dinner with him in some little Italian or semiBohemian restaurant in the district toward Soho, or in one of the more stylish and magnificent establishments about Piccadilly Circus, and for the most part she did not care to refuse. ‘She would say, espéce de diable, this Melusine. The silence of Canton at night was sinister, for none could prophesy what form of mob might suddenly boil out. Gerald guessed she was biting her tongue on an explosive retort as she eyed him. Little by little the pool cleared, the whims vanished: so that both Ruth and the doctor, by the middle of the third week, began to accept Spurlock's actions as normal, whereas there was still a mote or two which declined to settle, still a kink in the gray matter that refused to straighten out. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish to say. “If I was the world I think I should have put down a crimson carpet, and asked you to say what you wanted, and generally walk over me. Plote was sleeping or deaf.
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