If I might take the liberty, Sir John,” he added, with a humorous gleam in his eyes, “I should like to congratulate you upon your tie. My thanks, by the by. “Sebastianus? Where did my husband go?” He smiled at her gently, patronizingly, as he prevented her from movement or escape. A piece of seaweed touched her hand, tender and green. Sir John, by instinct and training, was an unimaginative person.
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