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by E. F. Benson
Though there was nothing visibly graceful about Michael Comber, he
apparently had the art of giving gracefully. He had already told
his cousin Francis, who sat on the arm of the sofa by his table,
that there was no earthly excuse for his having run into debt; but
now when the moment came for giving, he wrote the cheque quickly
and eagerly, as if thoroughly enjoying it, and passed it over to
him with a smile that was extraordinarily pleasant.
"There you are, then, Francis," he said; "and I take it from you
that that will put you perfectly square again. You've got to write
to me, remember, in two days' time, saying that you have paid those
bills. And for the rest, I'm delighted that you told me about it.
In fact, I should have been rather hurt if you hadn't."
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