"You are my prisoner. Wood now re-appeared with a very red face; and, followed by Winifred, took her seat at the table. It's infernally provoking. “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. I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. “Then we must try and make London endurable for you,” he remarked cheerfully. Pull over there.
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