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‘So I shall do so. “Dear me,” she said, “I fancy you exaggerate my fame. But the rise of the chest was quite perceptible now. The hansom drove off. The carte de jour was before Monsieur. She turned back into the hall. But if I were dying of thirst, in a desert, I would not accept a cup of water at her hands. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, pervert?” “Yes sir. Meysey Hill—never your wife. That paper must be signed, or I take my departure.
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