“Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. A town called Foster. ‘Comment? You have then met this Suzanne?’ The woman turned a deep red. " He rose for fear she might touch him again. It was a port of call, since fortnightly a British mail-boat dropped her mudhook in the bay. ” She took his hand and smiled upon him.
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