And instead of accepting the situation gratefully, he felt vaguely hurt! One evening in September a proa rasped in upon the beach. "Unless you have eaten a Syrian orange," he was always saying, "you have only a rudimentary idea of what an orange is. She had asked to borrow his pencil out of dire necessity. "I never saw the like of you! One has to guard one's actions constantly in this wicked world, if one is a woman, young and pretty. "What's the use of wasting a shot?" rejoined Jonathan, savagely. Challenge accepted. Quite right. To him she had always appeared as a mere pleasure-loving parasite—something quite insignificant. One point was that she was to wear fancy dress in the likeness of a Corsair’s bride, and the other was that she was to spend whatever vestiges of the night remained after the dance was over in London with the Widgett girls and a select party in “quite a decent little hotel” near Fitzroy Square. " "Who are they?" inquired Sheppard.
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