“Yes,” he said, “I want to get away. And her kind of love forgives everything and anything but infidelity. “Tut, tut!” he said. And, anyhow, it doesn’t matter to us. . That’s really our choice now, defy—or futility. " With no little effort—for the right words had a way of tumbling back out of reach—he marshalled his phrases, and as he uttered them, closed his eyes to lessen the possibility of a break. “Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us.
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