‘Madame, I trust I see you well?’ ‘Merci. “Hello? She’s like, your girlfriend, not mine. But there's a person in the hall—a very odd sort of man—waiting to see him, who won't be sent away. But how long would she last, withering away to a desiccated pile of skin and bone? Round and round she would go. They trudged and talked, and Manning struggled, as he said, to “get the hang of it all.
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