He reappeared in street clothes, his cropped hair not even damp from the shower, fresh-faced and sweetsmelling. "I wouldn't force him for the world: but if he don't tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don't get a taste of the aqua pompaginis. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair. "Enough's as good as a feast. Besides, I have my doubts that he is so very sick. They have rescued the child. "Speak, or I fire!" "Well, if you will have it, it's Sir Rowland Trenchard. But—if you are a friend of Mr. “You’re getting too old to put things off, John. ” Sir John clutched at the table with both hands.
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