“Stay and have another spot, old man,” said Westfield. “Morning’s young. Have a gin. Give you an appetite.” “No, thanks, I must be going. Come on, Flo. Good-bye, Mrs. Lackersteen. Good-bye, everybody.” “Exit Booker Washington, the niggers’ pal,” said Ellis as Flory disappeared. Ellis could always be counted on to say something disagreeable about anyone who had just left the room. “Gone to see Very-slimy, I suppose. Or else sloped off to avoid paying a round of drinks.” “Oh, he’s not a bad chap.” Westfield said. “Says some Bolshie things sometimes. Don’t suppose he means half of them.” “Oh, a
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