There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. His gangling body was clothed in rusty twill trousers and a long black seersucker coat, buttoned to the throat, around which ran a collar which would have marked him the world over as a man of the Word. " "Hold your tongue, hussy!" cried her husband gruffly. This was number 13, Montague Street, familiarly spoken of in the neighbourhood as “White’s. Trifle useful?" he added, slipping a few gold pieces into Jack's hand. "Let us hope that, like her who 'loved much,' her sins are forgiven her. If you’ve got anything to say, you must say it to your aunt—” “But look here, daddy!” He flapped the Times at her with an imperious gesture. ’ ‘Oh yes, or walked through the walls, I dare say. " "I will, when I've had my revenge," muttered Jack. An acute sense of living was in her veins, even the taste of her wine seemed magical.
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