You—It’s jolly of you to confide in me. " "What kind?" "Dickens, Hugo. I should lose every scrap of independence—even my self-respect. The stench was cheese-like and unbearable and Lucy dry-heaved. The silence grew unbearable, so she asked, \"What is your surname, John?\" \"My surname? You mean my last name?\" \"Yes. Good night. She was my first love.
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