My son wanted to marry a woman of thirty in a tobacconist’s shop. She observed the tides, amazed by how high the water could rise, almost touching the tops of the cliffs. ‘But who was he, Gerald?’ ‘A damned condottiere,’ exploded Gerald, forgetting his company. By chance I went to one who had known you in Paris. ’ ‘But you are bleeding like a pig,’ came the frantic response.
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