Then she sang. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. ” He stood up and waited for her to move. “This,” he said, and then: “No! Is this sweeter? Very well. . A wild passion of shame and self-disgust swept over her.
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