"The plot's out!" cried Jack. Or appeared to do so. It's so stuffy—and all that tobacco smoke!" He inspected his watch. "Your audacity passes belief," cried the latter, as soon as his surprise would allow him utterance. Jack, however, had an expedient for mastering this difficulty. It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. “On the stage? Yes.
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