"Forgive—forgive me!" "I have nothing to forgive," replied Mrs. I worship you. After he had eaten dinner with Ruth, he had gone to McClintock's; and he had heard music such as he had heard only in the great concert halls. He had not bothered to take off his raincoat and his umbrella sat dripping on his modern ice cube of a table. He was halfway across the ballroom, where the dancing had ceased for the musicians to take a well-earned rest, when Roding pounced on him.
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