‘I dropped the lantern,’ Jack’s muffled voice told her. Manning leaned forward on the table, talking discursively on the probable brilliance of their married life. She became aware of the Scotch student regarding her with stupendous amazement, a tea-cup poised in one hairy hand and his faceted glasses showing a various enlargement of segments of his eye. “That young man was giving a luncheon party to a dozen friends at the Café de Paris to-day. She opened the door to him herself. Yes; she had heard the music the night before. Prudence was the substance and Angelina the shadow; for Angelina never offered opinions, she only agreed with those advanced by Prudence.
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