The only inconvenience I feel from my shattered noddle is an incapacity to drink. He will have it that I’ve taken leave of my senses. In a little while—to-morrow—all these tender, beautiful emotions will pass away, and I'll become what I was yesterday, a cynical, miserly old spinster. It was rigged up for the occasion as it has been many a time before. “It’s odd,” said Ann Veronica, re-entering the flat. "There it is!" cried Sir James, eagerly.
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