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If I could tell you that, I could tell you the secretest secrets of the sages, and I should be making my everlasting fortune oh, but money hand over fist as the oracle of a general information bureau, in Bond Street, or somewhere. I should be a millionaire, and a celebrity, and a regular cock-of-the-walk. Where is Madame Torrebianca's husband? Ay! Gentle shepherd, tell me where?"
We 're going abroad?" asked Adrian. "I suppose so. Where else is there to go?" said Anthony. "I could have told you beforehand," Adrian consoled him, "that you had n't the ghost of a chance with her. You grim, glum, laconic sort of men are n't at all the sort that would appeal to a rich, poetic, southern nature like Madame Torrebianca's.
Oh, my dear!" He kissed his fingers, and wafted the kiss to the sky. "Eyes! Imagine twin moons rising over a tropical " "Allons donc," Anthony repressed him. "Contain yourself. Where is Madame Torrebianca's husband?" "Ah," said Adrian, with a sudden lapse of tone. "Where is Madame Torrebianca's husband? That's the question. Where?" And he winked suggestively. "How can I tell you where he is?
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