" "I can't. Care for a hundred up?” Ennison shook his head. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. “Can you spare me a moment?” he asked. Thrilling, she began to dance, swirled, glided, and dipped. ‘Merci, dieu.
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