” Her hand fell back into her lap. ’ ‘That is not your affair. We could have secured you when you left the Mint. We've got to make him take up the harp of life and go twanging it again. And Pottiswick, of course. On a stool eight feet high sat a small boy in a faded blue cotton, his face like that of young Buddha. “If only Sir John were not Sir John I would ask you to come and have some supper.
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