I’ll drive you home once my buzz goes away. ” So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. “I think we are growing sensible,” he said. “I wish they did,” he said, “but they don’t. ” Sheila snarled. “I know the place you mean—very good cooking for such an out-of-the-way show. " The feminine vanities in Ruth were quiescent; nothing had ever occurred in her life to tingle them into action.
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