‘To begin with,’ he said, ‘allow me a very tiny intimacy. No, don’t interrupt me. As for this infatuation—it’s like some obsession, some magic thing laid upon you. "My son! my dear, dear son!" returned Mrs. “Just at present my mind simply won’t take hold of this at all. His eyes were set too close together. I spent agonizing weeks wandering Mantua in search of you, finally arriving at the idea of asking someone who you were. Did he talk a little when you took him into the city?" "No. Certain phases of irony always caused him to chuckle audibly. “It was the night you left Paris.
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