It was the day I borrowed a pencil; the day we first spoke to one another. “I believe it is. “You remember our first meeting?” “Yes,” he answered hoarsely. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. “Young lady! Are you sure you’re of legal age to be smoking those cigarettes?” “No, I’m not of legal age. “Hotel Ritz,” he said mechanically to the coachman. ’ ‘Nonsense. "I am, Charcoal.
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