" CHAPTER VI. They were childless and servantless, and they had reduced simple living to the finest of fine arts. “The conventions do not matter one little bit. “I am going,” she said grimly, with three hairpins in her mouth. Was there no echo anywhere in Miss Stanley’s pacified brain? Those empty rooms, if they were empty, were the equivalents of astoundingly decorated predecessors. He filled her glass with champagne. Her aunt went off at a tangent. Three times he uttered a phrase: "A djinn in a blue-serge coat!" And each time he would follow it with a chuckle—the chuckle of a soul in damnation. He was an outside broker and the proprietor of a financial newspaper; he had come up very rapidly in the last few years, and Mr.
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