I never intended it to be anything but a short story, for I had never completed even the shortest of stories unless forced to in grammar school. "You must take it to Sir Rowland Trenchard's in Southampton Fields. “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.
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