\" \"Oh, come on!\" Shari exclaimed, putting her cocoa down and burying her face in a fat white pillow. “I have a letter for you, and no end of messages. Drive away the cat; throw that measure of gin through the window; and tell me why you've not so much as touched the packing-case for Lady Trafford, which I particularly desired you to complete against my return. ToC That night Jack walked to Paddington, and took up his quarters at a small tavern, called the Wheat-sheaf, near the green. ‘I’ve never found a woman who did not drive me into a frenzy of boredom.
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