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’ ‘Slaughtered with the rest, was she?’ Despite his hatred of the woman who had caused so much grief, the general found he could not rejoice as he wanted to. Wood. “Nothing can cheer me,” he said, “except champagne. Yes. You had better go to bed. He conveyed not only his sense of the extreme want of correctitude in their unsanctioned meetings, but also that, so far as he was concerned, this irregularity mattered not at all, that he had flung—and kept on flinging—such considerations to the wind. It was as much accident as anything, but she had killed him. ‘Come, cry a truce.
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