‘He was our first commander, and a more stiff-necked—’ ‘Exactly so,’ concurred Lady Bicknacre. But whenever the storm grew dangerous, either McClintock or Spurlock broke into saving laughter. She wet some absorbent cotton with alcohol and refreshed his face and neck. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. "One last embrace. “Do you understand what I am talking about? It’s no good if you don’t.
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