The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. “Oh, my dear!” she cried, and suddenly flung herself, kneeling, into her husband’s arms. I find it impossible to associate you with—my little friend of the ‘Ambassador’s. "There's Sharples," cried Quilt. “See you to-night, I suppose?” He sauntered off.
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