Gay," he added, turning to the poet. ‘I want a word with you, my lad. “Were you ever in love, aunt?” she asked. He lost control of the machine. "I imagine I must have a hundred rolls—all the old fellows. ‘Now I see that you are mad indeed. "I have dreamed that I shall see him before I die," she rejoined. ‘I have first some affairs to finish. And yet—you millionaires should really, I think, cultivate the art of discrimination.
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