'" "'This be the verse you grave for me: Here he lies where he longed to be; Home is the sailor, home from the sea. And all to satisfy a succession of rapacious lightskirts. ‘Read that,’ and threw the telegram at me, so that it went into the tureen. I shall like to think of it—whenever I feel dull. It was equally as beautiful but not quite so fine as the daughter's. I have plenty of money, and the Duke will not be in the next Cabinet. As we turned the corner of the street, I noticed that the electric light was burning in this room.
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