" "So she was," replied the woollen-draper, helping himself to an enormous pinch of snuff with the air of a man who does not dislike to be rallied about his gallantry,—"so she was. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman. That night she found a ship bound to sail for the heathen nation called America. Neither of them joined in the applause which followed upon her exit. Pretty! Ten thousand days, ten thousand nights! “You shall tell me your faults,” said Manning. Outside the door he turned and stared at the panels.
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