If you choose to requite me by detaining me, you are at liberty to do so. “But you must forgive me, John. She tiptoed to the stand and gathered up the manuscripts which she carried to a chair by the window. I love the soles of your feet. "But don't wait for me, Sir Cecil. ” Horace, the manservant, transformed now into the semblance of a correctly garbed waiter, threw open the door. “I hope you realize,” he went on, in a lower and less assured tone, “that I am in earnest—very much in earnest.
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