Drummond smoked his cigarette meditatively. Mr. Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street. He begged their attention for the next turn. In your heart you know very well that this is absurd. You denied it at the time—but unfortunately I have proof. ” She sniffled.
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