I declare I'm almost afraid to go to the door. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. "Red apples and snow!" he repeated. ‘But if you must fight so furiously, I don’t see how I can promise not to do it again. How you dress when you're loafing will be no concern of mine; but fresh twill or Shantung, when you dine with me, collar and tie.
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