The spinsters had purchased one grass-linen tablecloth; the girl and the young man had purchased nothing. Several people were passed out on the sectional sofa, and muffled noises emanated from other rooms indicating that the party’s embers were still smoldering, but John was nowhere to be seen. ‘Ah, there is the little menace itself,’ he drawled, recovering some of his own sangfroid. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs.
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