"Let me see him. “John, you were never bound to me, you don’t owe me anything. . . So he resolved to try another tack. It was after all a momentary affair. So far as I am concerned, I am just now a hopeless nonentity. 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. Hope reared. I guess those books are okay because they are fiction.
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