The teacher turned towards the blackboard to inscribe the names of Capulet and Montague. He had come to Anna’s rooms from a dinner party, and he was in evening dress. “Then we must try and make London endurable for you,” he remarked cheerfully. ‘Come, cry a truce. The confirmed drunkard's mouth at length sets itself peculiarly; it becomes the mark by which thoughtful men know him. We are in love. “I do love you.
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