For was not Gerald a gentleman? An Englishman, whose services any female—excluding her own self so idiote— would be very happy to have. She held out her arms to him and smiled. They became aware of the waitress standing over them with book and pencil ready for their bill. “Too late, my dear girl,” she exclaimed. ‘Doesn’t she, Gerald?’ Gerald held up his hands. She was standing there, smiling at the audience as at her friends.
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