207 She romanced a dark-haired farmer a few times, having long since forgotten his name. To-night I locked up my flat at six o’clock. I shall be very sorry if I cannot have you for a friend. Amongst others who came to see him, was a Mr. I am a man—of a sort of experience. He saw it in book-covers, on the stage. For what indeed does she do? A simple song, no gesture, no acting, nothing. But you must come this way now.
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