" "Let me touch you, then; let me feel if you are really flesh and blood," cried the poor maniac, creeping towards him on all fours. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view. “There’s the whole situation. ” He smiled bitterly as he handed her from the cab. A siphon and a whisky bottle stood before him. But, by Jove! you are fierce! You are like those Roman women who carry stilettos in their hair.
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