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At Boulogne they took train to Basle; next morning they breakfasted together in the buffet of that station, and thence they caught the Interlaken express, and so went by way of Spies to Frutigen. The tables were then cleared. In the end he broke his own heart along with your mother's. He hadn't gambled or played the horses or hit the booze back there in little old New York…. He knew very well that his muscles were flabby, and his nerve by no means what it should be. ‘That was one of my own clever stories. She turned her head away sharply. . He might be unfortunate, but he would scarcely be a fool. There was no answer.
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