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selling old cap pistols and Joan Crawford cutout books...
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- Honestly... - Look, I'm not trying to be
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a martyr, but I think you'll be better off without me.
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- I really do. - But we would!
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- I can't believe you're moving. - Go ahead. Go ahead!
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Walk the streets. Gush over the Parisian light and the rooftops.
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Goodbye, Inez.
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- Say hi to Trotsky. - Yeah.
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- Unbelievable! - You know, I had...
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a private detective follow him. I knew he was up to no good.
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- You did? - You bet I did.
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He saw him get into a car at midnight every night,