He became ugly and monstrous, dunning her, threatening her, assailing her. The small grey feathers of her exquisitely shaped fan waved gently backwards and forwards. I don’t think I’ve got illusions, nor you. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. But, in spite of her attractions, we shall address ourselves to the younger, and more interesting couple.
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