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The deft-handed Chinaman hovering behind our chairs, the softly shaded table-lights, the wine in tall, fantastically shaped Bohemian glasses, the very food all unfamiliar, and therefore fascinating: olives, smoked salmon to which I helped myself largely, believing it to be sliced tomato a cold bird of sorts, no slices of bread but little rolls in place of them, no tea, and no dishes ever seen in Mrs.
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