" Jonathan's eyes glistened as he told over the notes. But she disapproved more and more of her own mental austerity. “Dear me!” he said. A siphon and a whisky bottle stood before him. "Whose house do you want, master?" said the man, touching his hat. He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige. Somewhere, where we can talk without interruption.
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