“A glass slipped from the table,” he explained. "The only disguise I ever put on is a dress-suit, and I look as natural as a pig at a Mahomedan dinner. ” “It is a conspiracy,” she exclaimed. The shops were lighting up into gigantic lanterns of color, the street lamps were glowing into existence, and she had lost her way. The only mercy you can show me is to kill me. Some of the delicate colour which the afternoon walk had brought into her cheeks had already returned. Above the housetops it was different. Then a bit of colour flowed into his sunken white cheeks. We felt like thieves. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving.
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