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Excerpt from Calling the Tune
He was seated in the lounge of the Carlton after a luncheon that he had found amazingly satisfactory. He was used to lunching well, but he never wearied of the experience. He was smoking an Emperador that had cost him a pretty penny, but that would have cost most others a great many more pennies, pretty or ill-favoured. He was soothed as he did so by the knowledge that he had brought over ten thousand Emperadores and could survey the question of their consumption with serenity. He was sipping, at intervals, a yellow Chartreuse of a very respectable antiquity. He was looking, critically and approvingly, on pretty, well-dressed women, and portly, well-groomed men. He felt, and looked, very happy. Once again.
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