97 “For what, kiddo?” Larry turned his head slightly to one side. Capes was an exceptionally fair man of two or three-and-thirty, so ruddily blond that it was a mercy he had escaped light eyelashes, and with a minor but by no means contemptible reputation of his own. No, let us dine here, and then go and have our coffee on the boulevards. Lucy grabbed his shirtsleeve, whispering on tiptoe. "Don't fire," cried the latter. Of course, one doesn’t like to talk about things until there are things to talk about.
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