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It was not possible. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. “I like you very much John. After all, what can it matter? It was just to make sure. “But you do not know,” she whispered, “whether I am a married woman or not. She had been built for canvas and oil-lamps, and this new thingumajig that kept her nose snoring at eight knots when normally she was able to boil along at ten, and these unblinking things they called lamps (that neither smoked nor smelled), irked and threatened to ruin her temper. "Your audacity passes belief," cried the latter, as soon as his surprise would allow him utterance. "If you knew how much importance I attach to your answer," he continued passionately, "you would not refuse me one. You’re a far cry from your usual gloomy self these days. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia.
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