Who is to say that I am not André Valade, an obscure relation of the late vicomte. But beyond "amicable agreement in which mutual concessions are made," the word "compromise" was as blank as the Canton wall at night. The lamp was spreading soot over everything and the reek of kerosene was stronger than usual. As for Mike’s observations on John’s desires to get laid, it was the pot calling the kettle black.
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