“Fred,” he said, “do you remember taking me to dinner at the ‘Ambassador’s,’ one evening last September, to meet a girl who was singing there? Hamilton and Drummond and his lot were with us. And now she was discovering that even Nature was something of a liar, with her mirages and her horizons. I can’t imagine what possessed you, Veronica. I don’t have to take this shit. ‘Oh, mon dieu. “I’m not coarse—no! But I’ve got no purity of mind—no real purity of mind.
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