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Plote was sleeping or deaf. We must never let your father know we went. His face was much handsomer than Gianfrancesco’s, his lips thinner, his brow much more noble and wise. “I propose,” Sir John said, “that we pay for our dinner—which we haven’t had— tip the garçon a sovereign, and take a cab to the Ritz. . Grasping one of chairs about the little table, he drew it forward and sat astride it, in a fashion as insolent as it was unexpected.
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