“So I see that you have become content with your hardscrabble existence, your week-to-week survival, your Martin Chen!” “Who?” “Your limp-wristed lover!” “Um. “What a fool I am!” he muttered, standing up on the hearthrug, and leaning his elbows upon the broad mantelpiece. “You could have a talk to Miss Kitty Brett this afternoon, if you liked. "I disown you. And God had let him do it! He was—and now he perfectly understood that he was—treading the queerest labyrinth a man had ever entered. And I was altogether disgusted when he kissed me.
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