I knew it. Nature is a mother; her sympathies have always been feminist, and she has tempered the man to the shorn woman. “Where is my beautiful wife?” He bellowed from the downstairs. “Well, what is it?” “Montague Hill is recovering consciousness,” he said. ” The corners of her mouth rose in a weak smile and she gave him a wink. The gentleman appealed to shook his head in reply, coughed as only a Dutchman can cough, and raising his hand from the bowl of his pipe, went through precisely the same mysterious ceremonial as the Master. Thames did not attempt to offer him any consolation, for he was almost as much dejected.
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