" "Blueskin, clear the room," cried the Master; "these gentlemen would be private. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. And he hazarded a wink at the poet over the paper on which he was sketching. The night had swallowed him up, but his work on her was done. She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. “I think that I will leave this letter for him,” she said. The curtain came festooning slowly down, the music ceased, the lights in the auditorium glowed out, and Ann Veronica woke out of her confused dream of involuntary and commanding love in a glory of sound and colors to discover that Ramage was sitting close beside her with one hand resting lightly on her waist. I made Hainault’s acquaintance, stood him drinks, lent him money.
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