But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. At the same time,” she added, in a suddenly altered tone, “it isn’t anything whatever to do with you, is it?” “Why not?” he answered. As she went on, the story began to sound more and more like a recitation. "Rot, weren't they?" "No. “You are magnificent,” she said, “but the steel of your truth is a little oversharpened. Sir John felt hot and furious.
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