“Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. He held her hand in his, cupped together like a pair of shells for the rest of the hour. I’m sorry I ruined dinner. "Holloa—what's that?" cried Austin, starting up. I am your servitor. ’ The questions that had long haunted her came out at last. .
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