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I do not wish to return to Paris. “David,” she said, “you are not a coward, are you?” “I do not know,” he muttered. One nail drives out another, it's true; but the worst nail you can employ is a coffin-nail. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. “Suppose, for example, I go to this dance?” “You won’t. Here, indeed, was a type with which he had never until now come into contact—a natural woman. “I remember you now,” he said.
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