“How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. For yonder went the loneliest man in all God's unhappy world. I figured it would hurt your feelings if you knew I still talked to him, so I kept my mouth shut.
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