“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. Anna was still holding her cigarette between her fingers. " "If it were so, he would have great reason to be proud of the relationship, truly," observed Wood, shrugging his shoulders. O'Higgins was all that the doctor had imagined a detective to be: a bulky policeman in civilian clothes. ‘This is a private house,’ Hilary said severely, ‘and you are trespassing.
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