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. ‘But that is easy. Until at last I persuaded him to go to bed. ’ The girl glanced up the road and turned back, annoyance in her face. "Shoot him! shoot him! Put him out of hish mishery," cried the Jew. There are men in the Lowndean who laugh at him—simply laugh at him.
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