’ ‘A pox on the creature,’ swore Mrs Sindlesham, clenching and unclenching her stiff fingers. They were ingenious disguises of gilt paper destructively gummed, it would seem, to Ann Veronicas’ best dancing-slippers. Now that I recall, it probably wasn’t the best source for engineering plans. " "Oh, dear! how I should like to see him. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. “I have been bearing this—for your sake. “I will not rob you of your coffee, most dutiful of sisters!” she exclaimed. "These writer chaps are queer birds. Her parents totally look the other way. " "Mr.
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