. " "I wish you did have some faults, Ruth. With his foodle doo! "Peace!" cried Jack. ‘What in Hades d’ye mean, thanks to me? Want to blame anyone, blame that rapscallion who calls himself your father. ” The talk was animated, and remained always brilliant in form even when it ceased to be brilliant in substance. "Do me the favour to seat yourself, Jack," said Sir James. The steps, even the pavements, were invaded by little knots of loungers driven outside by the unusual heat of the evening, most of them in evening dress, or what passed for evening dress in Montague Street.
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