” “My God!” said Manning, in a stage-aside. She had arranged for a supper of tea, a boiled egg, and some tinned peaches. ” “And no one else—has a key?” “I believe,” she said, “that that man must have one. Befuddle yourself, if you want to. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. I will no longer be a burthen to those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion.
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