Explore "Mysterious Mr. Sabin" by E. Phillips Oppenheim on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Mr. Sabin and his niece had finished their dinner, and were lingering a little over an unusually luxurious dessert. Wolfenden had sent some muscatel grapes and peaches from the forcing houses at Deringham Hall -- such peaches as Covent Garden could scarcely match, and certainly not excel. Mr. Sabin looked across at Helene as they were placed upon the table, with a significant smile.
"An Englishman," he remarked, pouring himself out a glass of burgundy and drawing the cigarettes towards him, "never knows when he is beaten. As a national trait it is magnificent, in private life it is a little awkward."