She was tired, hungry—and thus somewhat impatient for the food Mrs Ibstock might bring—and downcast. She had expected a love story; and love was totally absent. She felt smaller and more adventurous even than she had expected to feel. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. " "As you please," returned Jack, leaping up; "but I feel devilishly inclined to finish him. I want to know more about her. He can't play cards, either, when he's sober.
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