Even her debt to him was a triviality now. She said as much to him. “I’ve gotta go. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. It’s 180 endearing. Wood the carpenter. ‘Get you invited to a party where the French émigrés will be present? Nothing easier, dear boy. But I've not promised to stand by him yet; nor will I, unless he turns out an honest lad,—mind that. And, stretching out his hand, he lifted the dark object from the flood.
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