"Those chops, fried potatoes, and buttered toast. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. ‘And you come to me, thinking yourself half French, and expect me to take you in. Come and help me pack. Aliva Trencher. Then came the great day. Your life is like a funeral March. Stay me with flagons, comfort me with apples, for I am sick of love.
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