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Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him. For a few minutes, Darrell seemed to have the advantage in the conflict. “I had the pleasure of—er—meeting you more than once, I believe. "Get ready the irons, Caliban. Cocked hats and buckled swords spoke of rank. Good-bye. I had a hunch. Anything in the least irregular is like poison to him. I think it inadvisable—I don’t want an intimacy to spring up between you and a man of that type. I must apologize for my young puppy of a clerk. It’s no half reform either. The last piece was Scheherazade. He claimed me for his wife, and showed to every one a marriage certificate. Horrible doubts assailed her. ’ Your name alone would fill any music hall in London.
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