‘And certainly I wish that Joan will come with us. ” He shook her diminutive hand. So far as the eye could reach, the white level road, with its fringe of elm-trees, was empty. I feel almost inclined to regret the fact. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. "You'll get nothing out of me, I can promise you, unless you show a little more civility. And mind you don't arouse his suspicions.
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