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Ellen, a twenty-something attempting to live the life of a socialite,
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So Arthur is meeting me for dinner, after my shopping spree day and who should but walk in but—her.
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So I am here to tell I am more than a little rattled by this tragic figure, well, more tragic figurine, and I do that sort of vague stare that I have truly mastered and Arthur is jee-jawing about his day and his lit-y-ature and Auden and Isherwood and other dead British c#cksu#ckers who are TREMENDOUS and his ancient Lymie life and my glorious spirit and the next thing I know—Are you possibly read? Ancient Lymie Arthur has decided—
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