“Just like old times,” she thought sardonically. He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige. “That sounds so uncouth,” she murmured. He knew my name, and also that I had been living in Paris, and a man doesn’t risk claiming a girl for his wife, as a rule, for nothing. " "Ship her back to her father"—sagely.
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