‘No more, Saling, no more,’ said Mrs Sindlesham in accents of exhaustion. ‘Parbleu, how you make me talk!’ ‘Your secret is safe with me, I promise you,’ Gerald said reassuringly. “I knew of course that you were at the Montressor’s, but I had no idea that it was a music hall party afterwards. Spurlock was basically a poet, quick to recognize beauty, animate or inanimate, and to transcribe it in unuttered words.
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