" "My dear," observed Wood, "you should be more charitable—" "Charitable!" repeated his wife, "that's your constant cry. But he could only utter an inarticulate exclamation. She tiptoed into the entryway where some decorator had placed a live orchid upon a glassy ebony table. In the artificial light her skin had the tint and lustre of a yellow pearl. With her lived a Mrs. “Would you mind calling that hansom for me?” He looked at it critically and shook his head. “You’re just a boy! You grow moody and spellbound, John, and the next moment you are ecstatic. "Well, Joan," said the benevolent mechanic, after he had looked at her steadfastly for a few moments, "what say you?—silence gives consent, eh?" Mrs.
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