His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. “Your father,” he said, “remarked that all’s well that ends well, and that he was disposed to let bygones be bygones. He heard Rollo's stump beat a gentle tattoo on the floor. Horrible details recurred to her. There was another phrase which sounded something like 'Gin in a blue-serge coat'. Try and let him never regret it. The annihilation of the Terror which fascinated her and troubled her dreams o' nights. I went to the theatre that night.
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