"Do you compare your love—a love which all may purchase—with hers? No one has ever loved me. He now understood her interest in Taber, as he called himself: habit, a twice-told tale. I was always told my mother died the day I was born. It was at his side below the breast, hidden by the dark colour of his close-fitting jacket. ‘You wish to tell me something? Parbleu, I have nearly forgot once more. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away.
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