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She had been so young then. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I am going to take a liberty. ‘Jacques? Oh, that is news of the very finest. There was a time, long, long ago, when the tears would have rushed to my eyes unbidden at the bare mention of generosity like yours, Mr. . Had she too been flying from something and had accepted this method of escape? But what frying-pan could be equal to this fire? All this led him back to the original circle. “You mean to tell me” he said, “that you have a lover? While I have been keeping you! Yes—keeping you!” This view of life he hurled at her as if it were an offensive missile. And there arose too, a background of shouts. You would find things to laugh at even in Artemus Ward. What in the world was the wench up to now? For it must be she. It was necessary to think, and think quickly.
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