He left that arid rule clear of the least mist of refinement or delicacy. “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. But the big job for you is yet to come. "Go to lunch," he ordered Ruth. It lay undisturbed in the remotest corner of the recess. Still, there certainly was something in the idea of a treaty.
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