“P. ” “Tut!” he said, fuming, and put out his hand to the papers in the pink tape. The Widgett mental furniture was perhaps worn and shabby, but there it was before you, undisguised, fading visibly in an almost pitiless sunlight. He returned, blue towel in hand. He was not, in truth, much of a ladies’ man. . “Well,” he said slowly, “I had met you three times—before Drummond’s dinner.
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