“They might do you good,” she remarked. “You would appear to be trying to destroy a comradeship which has been very, very pleasant. She perceived that his countenance was only composed by a great effort, his features severely compressed. ’ The lashes fluttered demurely. . “Why should one pretend?” she whispered. Remember, in your story—look at it, scattered everywhere!—that line? We arrive at true happiness only through labyrinths of misery. " As he spoke, the door of the round-house was opened, and a stout man, with a lantern in his hand, presented himself at the threshold. 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.
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