Paris looms behind—a tragedy of strange recollections—here she emerges Phœnix-like, subtly developed, a flawless woman, beautiful, self-reliant, witty, a woman with the strange gift of making all others beside her seem plain or vulgar. "You do love me?" "God knows how much!" Suddenly he laid his head on her shoulder. Instead, she laughed, laughed with lips and eyes, laughed till the tears ran down her cheeks. He took his seat at the table, but leaned forward to address her. At length she hit upon it: bubbling water.
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