" "A novelist?" cried Ruth, thrilling. And you talk like that! What the devil have you been up to, to land in this bog?" It was a cast at random. “Would they make her Queen?” She asked innocently. I suppose I ought to have been a man. “I have never yet met a man whose intellect I could respect. My address is 94, Pall Mall. He laughed reassuringly. Pure luck! If the boy had grown a moustache or a beard, a needle in the haystack would have been soft work.
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