But kill me rather than commit this outrage. Humph. Spurling, drily. Then he took me out to Monteaux, on a motor. He was a thin old man, a wreck in a ruined body, but nothing would induce him to stand in any other way than as stiffly erect as possible like the soldier he had always been, even though he was obliged to lean on his silver-handled cane to do so. Once she had asked him: "Are you my father?" He had answered: "I am.
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