His tongue was more ready, his wit more keen than usual. “I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. " The doctor hesitated, puffing his tobacco hastily. " "But, Lord, man!—don't you ever get lonesome?" "Don't you?" "I'm too busy. But the mere recognition of his son’s signature was enough to stoke the fires of his long-held rage. You would suffer the torments of the damned for what you had done.
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