He would raise her up once again, ply her with silks and jewels again, all of the accoutrements of the new generation: the cars, the toys, the restaurants, and the prestige. The sergeant had not seen it for he understood nothing of what she told him. Why should she trouble herself over that young fool, who was nothing to her; who, when he eventually sobered up, would not be able to recognize her, or if he did, as something phantasmagorical? Perhaps he should not apply the term "fool"; "unfortunate" might be the more accurate application. “So how about this Friday?” He asked. Her eyes were lit with mirth, the corners of her mouth quivered. “You say that he is alive.
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