“It’s THE Society!” said Miss Miniver. A great bowl of scarlet carnations gleamed from a dark corner, set against the background of a deep brown wall. How long he sat there, reeling off this drivel, he never knew. On the present occasion, he appeared to have bestowed more than ordinary attention on his toilette. Talked about his years, his position and his constituents, and always sneaked off back to his hotel just when the fun was going to begin. “She can’t.
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