That is why I was so anxious to leave Paris. Lucy acted the part of savoring the end of the meal, but it was difficult. The man who staggers, whose face is flushed, whose attitude is either noisily friendly or truculent, has some chance; liquor bends him eventually. We were to live in some wretched London suburb. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. Gerald perhaps would know how to find him.
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