She glared at him with satisfaction. She had been to San Francisco, and what I learned about the world was from her. And his scarlet coat had nothing to do with it, as Hilary was fond of recounting, for he had been in civilian clothes when they met, as he was tonight. “No Christmas dinner,” she said, “or anything nice! One doesn’t even know what you are doing. Superstition is the Chinese Reaper. ‘To begin with,’ he said, ‘allow me a very tiny intimacy.
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