Jill the Reckless

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Freddie Rooke gazed coldly at the breakfast-table. Through a gleaming eye-glass he inspected the revolting object which Barker, his faithful man, had placed on a plate before him. Barker! His voice had a ring of pain. Sir?
What’s this?
Poached egg, sir. Freddie averted his eyes with a silent shudder. It looks just like an old aunt of mine, he said. Remove it!