“And you must please not look at me as though I were an executioner,” she declared lightly. ’ He endured the inevitable scold with patience, saluted Mrs Chalkney’s faded cheek, and went off to endure the necessary delay with what patience he could muster. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend.
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