The moviegoers exited the cinema in the customary daze that resulted from two hours of sensory bombardment. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. “My wife. “TROUSERS!” she whispered. ‘How do you do, my lord? I am Lucilla Froxfield. "Don't touch me. ‘Jacques!’ She got no further, for Kimble came towards her, speaking fast and low. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. “Women are mocked,” she said.
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