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" CHAPTER XIII. For such of us as pretend to be wise—and we are but fools in a lesser degree—we know that humanity moves onward only by the impellant of fine dreams. ‘Who, the émigrés?’ ‘Do I speak of the English, imbecile? Certainly the émigrés. One doesn’t realize that even the sort of civilization one has at Morningside Park is held together with difficulty. ’ ‘I’m coming to that. Perhaps my wife has already prepared you for what I wish to say. S. Hill’s first night back amongst us, too. I know why. ‘I can see why you lost your place, young Kimble. You've betrayed yourself, Thames. You’d think he wanted to meet the wretch again. If the boy was legging it alone…. It was an unspoken curfew in the Beck house on week nights.
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