“Yes,” she answered, looking away. It is the horse of the priest, you understand, and—and he does not know that I have borrowed it. A few days ago I saw him leave your house. I am engaged to sing every evening at the ‘Unusual’ music hall. “I haven’t a scrap—of this sort of aversion. I dined with a friend and went to the ‘Unusual. You look like a movie star. A ragged gray moustache drooped from the corners of his mouth and a ragged wisp of whisker hung from his chin. The wastrel, the ne'er-do-well, who went mostly nobly to a fine end.
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