He had heard me sing—the fool thought himself in love with me. Alcohol— would you believe it?—steadies his nerves and keens his brain: which is against the laws of gravitation, you might say. Or run me through. ‘Something for you, Lucy?’ he asked, interrupting a heated argument that had obviously been in progress for some little time before their arrival. ’ ‘But it is stupide. No, not one little bit.
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