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 on one side and the little secret smile. "Ideas, ideas, coming and going And now! You to your shoppingses and I—well, childie?"

"Please, the bill," said Esmée to the waitress. "You must let me, please," she whispered to Mrs. Windermere.

"No, I don't like Oh well, well. I haven't got a Wilfred. Thanks, dear child!"

"They pushed their chairs back and went downstairs together. At the door, Esmée drew a valedictory breath. "It's been ever so nice," she said. "Lovely. Such a bit of luck! And now, I suppose"

"Which way? Oh, Peter Robinson's? Well, I'll come with you. It doesn't matter about my little shoppingses."

Firmly encircling Esmée's wrist with a thumb and forefinger she led her down Regent Street.