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. “One is always playing the surgeon, one kills always the thing one loves best. You cannot depart hence. His cigar burnt out between his fingers, and he threw it impatiently away. The funeral procession had now approached the grave, around which many of the congregation, who were deeply interested by the sad ceremonial, had gathered. You don’t happen to know of any one, I suppose, who wants a nursery governess, or a clerk—without shorthand—or a tryer-on, or a copyist, or——” “For Heaven’s sake stop, Miss Pellissier,” he interrupted.
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