"You know what I mean," said the trader, gravely. "Was I out of my head?" "Yes. “Ruin me? Think of me with fondness? Are you dying of cancer or something?” He demanded. He had not been successful as the world counted success; the fat bank-account, the filled waiting room of which he had once dreamed, had never materialized except in the smoke of his evening pipe. "You've perjured yourself. " The tone was neutral. The air was pungent and leaden. ” “Would you let me go on studying for a time?” “If you order patience.
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