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Updated: June 22, 2025
Gwendolyn glanced in the direction he pointed. And saw for the first time that a wide, smooth road led away from the Face-Shop, a road as wide and smooth and curving as the Drive. And each gave out a soft light. She did not have to ask about them. She guessed promptly what they were lights to make plain the way for people's feet: in short, nothing more nor less than footlights!
But it was not unbending, like a sword: It was limber to whippiness, so that as he twirled it about his blonde head it snapped and whistled. And Gwendolyn remembered having seen others exactly like it hanging on the bill-board at the Face-Shop. For it was a tongue! "Aw! Mah word!" exclaimed the King's English, surveying the halted group.
And still weeping copiously, so that his forehead glistened with his tears, he plodded across the border of the Face-Shop. It was then that Gwendolyn recalled under what circumstances she had seen him last. Only two or three days before, when bound homeward in the limousine, she had spied him loitering beside the walled walk. "What makes his club shine so?" she had asked Jane, whispering.
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