‘Mad as hatters!’ ‘It is you who is mad,’ mademoiselle told him crossly. After all, what did it matter?—it or anything else in the world? She was within reach of his arms, beautiful, compelling, herself as it seemed suddenly conscious of the light which was burning in his eyes. They ought to put a lamp. . He turned in at the club. But he reckoned without his host. "Do not endanger yourself on my account," rejoined his mother. He still watched her and questioned her.
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