You are the High Priestess of Life. You don’t wear a dinner coat with a flower in your button-hole, or last night’s shirt, or very glossy boots, nor do you haunt the drawing-room in the evening, or play at being musical. The tension was palpable. ’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. " Mr. "Pish!" exclaimed Hogarth. She handled it half fearfully, and set it carefully down again.
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