“I think, perhaps if you will excuse me, that we will defer the luncheon. ‘So yours is the rattling tongue, is it, young madam?’ ‘I should say so. ” “May I put you in a hansom?” he asked, lifting his stick. ’ Gerald eyed her. . The dream flowers and is harvested, and we are left by the wayside, having served our singular purpose in the scheme of progress: as the orange is tossed aside when sucked of its ruddy juice. Where the stuff came from was always a mystery.
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