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” Chapter III ANNA? OR ANNABEL? Sir John was wholly unable to understand the laugh and semi-ironical cheer which greeted his entrance to the smoking-room of the English Club on the following evening. Diedermeyer, sweetheart? He just went in. The spirit I drink may be poison,—it may kill me,—perhaps it is killing me:—but so would hunger, cold, misery,—so would my own thoughts. Maggot tenderly. “I might have muddled for a time. "As like as life. ‘But it is idiot. We must wave our hands at the blue hills far away there and go back to London and work. ’ ‘Why should Gérard care?’ sneered Gosse.
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