‘I went to see him because I thought he ought to know about you, having already been imposed upon by our friend Gosse. “You remember the man in Paris who used to follow me about—Meysey Hill they called him?” He nodded. The way it had happened was stupid, absurd. Maggot, whose nerves were more firmly strung, she contented herself with waving her hand affectionately to her lover, and encouraging him by her gestures. Take, if you please, your own pistol.
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