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The Prince and Betty by P. G. (Pelham Grenville) Wodehouse
page 57 of 301 (18%)
"You--you don't remember me," he stammered.

She was flushing a little under his stare, but her eyes were shining.

"I remember you very well, Mr. Maude," she said with a smile. "I
thought I knew your shoulders before you turned round. What are you
doing here?"

"I--"

There was a hush. The _croupier_ had set the ball rolling. A
wizened little man and two ladies of determined aspect were looking up
disapprovingly. John realized that he was the only person in the room
not silent. It was impossible to tell her the story of the change in
his fortunes in the middle of this crowd. He stopped, and the moment
passed.

The ball dropped with a rattle. The tension relaxed.

"Won't you take this seat?" said John.

"No, thank you. I'm not playing. I only just stopped to look on. My
aunt is in one of the rooms, and I want to make her come home. I'm
tired."

"Have you--?"

He caught the eye of the wizened man, and stopped again.

"Have you been in Mervo long?" he said, as the ball fell.
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