This employment seemed to afford him the highest satisfaction; for a diabolical grin—it cannot be called a smile—played upon his face all the time he was engaged in it. Fool that I was to part with my lantern! But I'll soon set myself straight. I’ve never had these crying fits before. He was standing up with the telegram crumpled in his hand. She grew attached to a pair of twins, a boy named Fritz and a girl named Anna, belonging to an auburn-haired Viennese prostitute named Clotilde. ‘Good God!’ uttered Roding.
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