One of her dharm-nephews, Dr. Weitbrecht, writing about，
'Thank you, thank you, Mr Arabin. I knew that you and I should be friends.'
'Not a word further. I will not hear a word further. If you talk till midnight, you cannot improve what you have said.'
'But Madame Neroni, Mrs Bold--'
'I will not hear a word about Mrs Bold. Dread thoughts of strychnine did pass across my brain, but she is welcome to the second place.'
'I won't hear anything about her or her place. I am satisfied and that is enough. But, Mr Arabin, I am dying with hunger; beautiful and clever as I am, you know I cannot go to my food, and yet you do not bring it to me.'
This at any rate was so true as to make it unnecessary that Mr Arabin should not act upon it, and he accordingly went into the dining-room and supplied the signora's wants.
'Oh,' said he, 'I am not hungry; I never eat at this hour.'
'Come, come, Mr Arabin, don't let love interfere with your appetite. It never does with mine. Give me half a glass more champagne, and then go to the table. Mrs Bold will do me an injury if you stay talking to me any longer.'
article title：One of her dharm-nephews, Dr. Weitbrecht, writing about
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