Don't you hear how you've made it cry?" "Throttle the kid!" rejoined Blueskin, fiercely. Then Capes flittered to the hearthrug and poked the fire, stood up, and turned about. “Can I bring you anything, sir—a whisky and soda, or a liqueur? You’ll excuse me, sir, but you haven’t touched your coffee. ’ ‘Never mind the comtesse,’ adjured Prudence.
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