He accepted the glass of wine, and bowed. " "Surest thing you know. There was something markedly and deliberately liberal-minded in his manner in all their encounters. I’ve had my time and lost my chances. "Your sister is dead," said he, in a deep whisper. And she found herself able to do nothing of the sort. “We are, or rather we were, so much alike then that the portrait of either of us would have done for the other. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable.
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