“I believe you are quite right so far as regards the present, at any rate,” someone remarked, from the depths of an easy chair. Meysey Hill—never your wife. But nobody drinks on my island unless I offer it, which is seldom. Annabel laughed a little uneasily. She slipped on white thin-soled tennis shoes with no socks, her ankles exposed as Shari had once suggested they be worn. "I wouldn't force him for the world: but if he don't tip the stivers, may I be cursed if he don't get a taste of the aqua pompaginis.
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