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“We are the music and you are the instrument,” she said; “we are verse and you are prose. It became a sort of duel at last between them, and all the others sat and listened—every one, that is, except the Alderman, who had got the blond young man into a corner by the green-stained dresser with the aluminum things, and was sitting with his back to every one else, holding one hand over his mouth for greater privacy, and telling him, with an accent of confidential admission, in whispers of the chronic struggle between the natural modesty and general inoffensiveness of the Borough Council and the social evil in Marylebone. There was question in Gerald’s gaze as it met hers, and apology in his voice. What was his transport on perceiving that a few yards above him a light was burning. "I don't see how you do it, Hoddy. They live in Arizona now, just as happy as ever from what I hear. “No!” he said aloud at last.

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