“My dear man,” she exclaimed, “wasn’t that a foregone conclusion?” “You treat the matter lightly,” he continued. If you talk of your faults, I shall talk of your splendors. 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. “You are a dear,” she exclaimed affectionately. His scent was like sweet perfume in her state, like the sweet smell of infants.
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