I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. Well, I'd no idea," she continued, pursuing her ruminations as she left the room, "that people of quality laughed so. Yet the smoke was curling upwards in a faint innocent-looking cloud to the ceiling. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter. “I should make sure that he doesn’t try to drive himself home.
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