Drummond took up a cigarette and lit it. She would meet him upon this ground: he should never be given the slightest hint that she was unhappy. The young man looked at her. The wine was sweetened with cinnamon and cloves and rare edible flowers, which her father had instructed her not to drink excessively of. She liked the high, easy swing of the thing over its big wheels, the quick clatter-patter of the horse, the passage of the teeming streets. But your cracked skull is by no means a pleasing spectacle.
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