" "My father was of the blood-royal of France," exclaimed Thames. “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. In vain Wood protested his innocence. I wanted the magic of love. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. I can't give you my hand; but you may take it.
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