“I’m not so sure. I’ll walk over there once I change clothes. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. "An idea has just occurred to me," said Gay, "which Jack's narrative has suggested. She could still remember his face, the perpetually wet lips that turned down at the sides, his drooping Roman eyes.
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