“But I have no troubles. She felt she must get him talking upon some impersonal theme at any cost. “I lied, as I would have committed a murder, or done any evil deed sooner than lose you. Drenched to the skin,—in fact, he had been lying in a bed of muddy water,—and chilled to the very bone, he felt so stiff, that he could scarcely move. One must get them with exactly the same intensity. I'm a bit daffy about music. She thrashed and screamed as he wrestled her back towards the bed. The Master listened, with becoming attention, to the narrative, and, at its conclusion, shook his head gravely, applied his thumb to the side of his nose, and, twirling his fingers significantly, winked at his phlegmatic companion. Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him.
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