"I've said it," rejoined Jonathan, peremptorily. Wood, who appeared to be collecting her energies for a terrible explosion, "in the hope that they may prove acceptable. "Here, wife—hostess—fetch me that bottle from the second shelf in the corner cupboard. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies. Someone had thoughtfully wrapped a bit of tissue paper round the electric bulb. "Is it by lettin' you go, my darlin', that I'm to airn it?" inquired Terence.
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