A white house that she often found charming loomed gray and ashen, its gardens shorn for the coming winter. So he marched into the street, primarily bent upon making the favourable discovery. " Prudence shrugged. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. The chance had gone. He was nearly wincing.
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