‘Here we go again. Good-bye. I married—I married a woman whom I still think one of the most beautiful persons in the world. Jolly nose! the bright rubies that garnish thy tip Are dug from the mines of canary; And to keep up their lustre I moisten my lip With hogsheads of claret and sherry. But De Maupassant—sheer off! Stick to Dickens and Thackeray and Hugo. ‘I’ve eyes in my head, haven’t I?’ He grunted. But the vicomte has said that his sister may remain, but that the daughter must go.
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