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Peter Ruff and the Double Four

II.5. The First Shot
De Grost and his wife were dining together at the corner table in a fashionable
but somewhat Bohemian restaurant. Both had been in the humor for
reminiscences, and they had outstayed most of their neighbors.
"I wonder what people really think of us," Violet remarked pensively. "I told Lady
Amershal, when she asked us to go there this evening, that we always dined
together alone somewhere once a week, and she absolutely refused to believe
me. 'With your own husband, my dear?' She kept on repeating."
"Her Ladyship's tastes are more catholic," the Baron declared dryly. "Yet, after
all, Violet, the real philosophy of married life demands something of this sort."
Violet smiled and fingered her pearls for a minute.
"What the real philosophy of married life may he I do not know," she said, "but I
am perfectly content with our rendering of it. What a fortunate thing, Peter, with
your intensely practical turn of mind, that nature endowed you with so much
sentiment."
De Grost gazed reflectively at the cigarette which he had just selected from his
case.
"Well," he remarked, "there have been times when I have cursed myself for a
fool, but, on the whole, sentiment keeps many fires burning."
She leaned towards him and dropped her voice a little. "Tell me," she begged,
"do you ever think of the years we spent together in the country? Do you ever
regret?"
He smiled thoughtfully.
 
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