“Julian! I was worried that. He felt himself collapse heavily onto her naked body, still inside her. These daughters! He gnawed his pen and reflected, tore the sheet up, and began again. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. “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. At this moment, a door was opened below; lights gleamed on the walls; and the figures of Rowland and Sir Cecil were distinguished at the foot of the stairs.
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