"Under the table. "But I'm a blackguard, too, Ruth. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. She was lamentably without comparisons; such few young men as she had seen—white men—had been on the beach, pitiful and terrible objects. But no more of that. "Tom! Hey, Tom!" The Chinese cook thrust his head into the dining room. In no way could he be said to contribute to the gaiety of the little party.
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