“Who’ll mind the baby nar?” was one of the night’s inspirations, and very frequent. Capes stood side by side upon an old Persian carpet that did duty as a hearthrug in the dining-room of their flat and surveyed a shining dinner-table set for four people, lit by skilfully-shaded electric lights, brightened by frequent gleams of silver, and carefully and simply adorned with sweet-pea blossom. " "That's right, Captain," rejoined Blueskin. He upset some one —probably Mr. Or else I would have finished him.
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