"And there you're right, you may dipind, marm," observed Terence. My garden-close would be a better thing than that. So the talk went on, and presently they were criticising novelists, and certain daring essays of Wilkins got their due share of attention, and then they were discussing the future of the theatre. The morning swims in the lagoon had thickened the red corpuscle. He swore that I was his wife, that chance had given me to him at last.
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