“It was perhaps my fault. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her. We stopped for a moment to watch it, and almost immediately it was turned out. "I've done with you. Tell the whole truth. There was no one at all in this room, but through the half-open door of one of the small apartments that gave upon it she had a glimpse of two very young girls sitting at a littered table and writing briskly. .
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