I suppose this is the sort of damned rubbish—” “Oh! Ssh, Peter!” cried Miss Stanley. ” “What!” he asked; “not a kiss?” She affected not to hear. Stanley regarded him through his glasses with something approaching animosity. She frowned, appearing to think for a moment. "Bring him out, Quilt. Everybody, he felt, must be listening behind their papers. As much as it killed her, she kept her mouth shut. She made no attempt to answer her sister’s question.
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