All bad verse—originally the epigram was Lang’s, I believe—is written in a state of emotion. She was chaffing him about being taken for Meysey Hill, and suggested that he should be presented to me as the millionaire. Mere formality. He remembered little whispered speeches of hers, so like the Annabel of Paris, so unlike the woman he loved, a hundred little things should have told him long ago. "I could almost forgive the wretch the injury he did me in depriving me of my poor dear wife—No, not quite that," he added, a little confused.
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