Then her white teeth gleamed, and her excuse for remaining any longer before that little marble table was gone. Chapter VI A QUESTION OF IDENTIFICATION The little man with the closely-cropped beard and hair looked at her keenly through his gold eye-glasses. “WHAT a place! “Stuffy isn’t the word for it. Who are they?" Mr. His curiosity, his literary instincts, had been submerged by the recurring thought of the fool he had made of himself.
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