"Thank Heaven!" she gasped. "Good bye!" cried Jack, as if taking leave of his mistresses, "to-morrow, at the same time. Sheila’s own waif of a husband had objected to her airing the truth, he had even gotten the nerve to bring up the word divorce. Meantime, as the doctor was splitting his breakfast orange, he heard a commotion in his office, two rooms removed: volleys of pidgin English, one voice in protest, the other dominant. All they left it was the moon and stars. The chamber, into which he stole, like all carpenters' workshops, was crowded with the implements and materials of that ancient and honourable art.
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