Supper was over. “We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. It was very pretty and very dainty while it lasted, but we played it with our eyes open, and we perfectly understood the game—both of us. "Jack has been keeping bad company. Ruth stared thoughtfully at the waiting coolies. " "Pshaw!" cried Thames. He was consumed with desire.
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