“I remember,” she said, “that the first night I saw you, you spoke of my sister as your friend. To be ill and helpless. “It’s unforgivable of me to call, Miss Stanley,” he said, shaking hands in a peculiar, high, fashionable manner; “but you know you said we might be friends. She went past three keenly observant and ostentatiously preoccupied waiters down the thickcarpeted staircase and out of the Hotel Rococo, that remarkable laboratory of relationships, past a tall porter in blue and crimson, into a cool, clear night. " "What time is it?" inquired Jack. . “Pray accept my apologies.
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