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Twenty-one, twenty-two. “I hope you have not come for that. We may meet—who can tell? But I will not be fettered, even though you would make the chains of roses. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. She felt a lump rise in her throat, for she had come to love living in America. ’ ‘Aye, but she don’t reckon to militiamen. It is what I have wanted, what I have meant all along. I'll try to fill in the gaps.
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