It’s odd, but nothing but cliche seems to meet this case. Well, while we were smoking our pipes, and quaffing our punch, Alsatia turns to me and says, 'Mint,' says he, 'you're well off here. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life. "Do you hear that! We are not wholly at fault. He had made himself master of the layout of the house, that was plain. “Who wouldn’t be for you?” The train began to move. Your boyfriend. I was stupid—stupid and impulsive beyond measure to burst upon you in this way. It isn't for their sakes, it's for your own. There's the paragraph.
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