They were bickering, she could tell by the way the mother threw her fat arms into the air and paced restlessly about the tiny clapboard house. There was little more here than a sideboard, a chest for the vestments, and a simple wooden chair. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. "Choose, Jack. "Hear me, Sir Rowland!" he cried.
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