"'The Man Who Could Not Go Home. “How could I, when your sister sings now at the ‘Unusual’ every night and the name ‘Alcide’ flaunts from every placard in London?” “The likeness between us,” she said, “before I began to disfigure myself with rouge and ill-dressed hair, was remarkable. She laughed as the deluge seemed to grow worse with every step. “We pretend bodies are ugly. Your second turn is not over, is it?” She laughed a little hardly. He beamed a little as she disappeared into the orchestra room, a cacophony of tuning instruments.
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