“Can you not understand? It is of no use your taking my identity and all the burden of my iniquities upon your dear shoulders if I am to be recognized the moment I show my face in London. “She must look forward to Italy. Marriage!—and no woman by to tell the child what it was! The shocks and disillusions she would have to meet unsuspectingly—and bitterly. “Remember that the man will probably die. You can tell me the rest another time. She could hear the raucous laughter and bad music below. Shoplatch.
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