I wish that it worked. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. ’ Emile’s eyes blazed. Good night!" She pressed his hand and went out. The way it had happened was stupid, absurd. He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. Charity for the ragtag and the bobtail of the Seven Seas, and none for his own flesh and blood. The law would accord her all her previous rights: she would return to the exact status out of which in his madness he had taken her.
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