Chapter XXX SIR JOHN’S NECKTIE Sir John, in a quiet dark travelling suit, was sitting in a pokey little room writing letters. Most of the tables were for those who smoked only and drank wine, but there were a few spread with tablecloths and laid for dinner. Every one took him for the millionaire, and he had lost his head about me. The next weekend arrived and she made her decision. Can you lend me some stuff?” “You ARE a chap!” said Constance, and warmed only slowly from the idea of dissuasion to the idea of help.
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