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‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in. ‘Not kill me, I mean. ” It was a long, meandering talk, stupid, shameful, and unavoidable. “You come into these sordid surroundings—you mustn’t mind my calling them sordid—and it makes them seem as though they didn’t matter. Still, one has to be reasonable. You say you have twenty-four hundred in your letter of credit. ’ ‘As if you could stop her.
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