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Her name, he said, was as pretty as its wearer. She stared. She grew attached to a pair of twins, a boy named Fritz and a girl named Anna, belonging to an auburn-haired Viennese prostitute named Clotilde. I do not choose the vicomte, for that would be foolish. “John,” she said, “I can spare you that question. So strongly was he impressed with this idea, that grasping the iron bar with both hands, he dashed it furiously against the door, making the passage echo with the blows. “Splendid it must be to be a composer. ’ The lady hesitated a moment, her eyes seeming to measure the distance between where he stood and the door.
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