She went to a dramatic agent, and he turned out to be the one who had heard me sing in Paris. The young man had knocked over the siphon. His father spoke for him. She had neither the semi-boisterousness of the average American girl nor the chilling insolence of the English. I thought that Hill was dead, but I was frightened, and I wanted to get away from Paris. It would have given me intense satisfaction to have been able to catch a French spy.
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