" "Sir," said the chief turnkey, indignantly. “Ferringhall, were you or were you not dining last night at a certain restaurant in the Boulevard des Italiennes with—la petite Pellissier?” Now indeed Sir John was moved. "Tush!" exclaimed Sir Rowland, angrily. So they fenced with smiles. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. She always left the table when they began to smoke.
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