” So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. Henceforth Ruth would closely observe her fellow women and note the hang of their skirts. Cursing himself for his inertness, Jack soon shook off this drowsiness, and set to work in earnest. ” Tears flowed down her face.
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