Red velvet curtains rustled under dim lights as the door shut with a heavy snap. Some shadow of reserve seemed to have crept up between them. You must think of this evening, John, sometimes—as a sort of atonement. His lips were tight drawn. To simplify matters, he carried a coloured paper lantern upon which his license number was painted in Arabic numerals. "That depends upon what you call educated. "Stop a minute," cried Jack, detaining his mistresses. Their conversation degenerated again and again into a strain of self-congratulation that would have irked an eavesdropper.
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