‘Eh bien, Eugénie. ‘Oh, dearie me, you make me feel a traitor. ‘Let her go. I declare I'm almost afraid to go to the door. ’ ‘About me?’ The lady’s lashes fluttered and her fan came up. She was to fall back amongst the ruck, a young woman of talent, content perhaps to earn a scanty living by painting Christmas cards, or teaching at a kindergarten. " "The pianist?" "Yes.
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