A sprinkling of callow youths, and a couple of pronounced young Jews, who were talking loudly together in some unintelligible jargon of the City. McClintock's astonishment merged into a state of mild hypnosis. ‘I don’t want a list of all the nuns resident in your wretched convent. You are the one person I can understand and feel—feel right with. It resembled Mardi Gras, and she thought disdainfully of New Orleans. Could you come to tea at my rooms one afternoon, or would you dine with me somewhere, and do a theatre? We could have a private room, of course, if you do not wish to be seen about London, and a box at the theatre. Don't unman him.
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