" The phrase was new, but Ruth nodded understandingly. For a big-bellied glass is the palette I use, And the choicest of wine is my colour; And I find that my nose takes the mellowest hues The fuller I fill it—the fuller! IV. "You are an angel," she cried, with a look beaming with delight. "Anything else?" "Your waistcoat. " He departed, musing. I’m not discussing Shakespeare.
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