Explore "The Thousandth Woman" by E.W. Hornung on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
It had been new life to them, but now it was all over. It was the last evening of their week, and they were spending it rather silently on Blanche's balcony.
"I make it at least three hundred," said Cazalet, and knocked out a pipe that might have been a gag. "You see, we were very seldom under fifty!"