’ ‘Pottiswick, you mean, miss?’ ‘Yes, yes. In the first place, it will be damnably dull. Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Where's the dining room? And, say, can I have some eggs? This jam-tea breakfast gets my goat. But no more of that.
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