It arises, I think, from an over developed sense of humour. “Look here, father,” she said, with a change in her voice, “suppose I won’t stand it?” He regarded her as though this was a new idea. "No friend like the mother, for the babby knows no other. You notice that I have recently spent ten francs on a box of the best Russian cigarettes, and that there are roses upon my table. Flesh and blood, vivid, alluring; she was no longer the symbol, therefore she had become, as in the twinkling of an eye, an utter stranger.
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