Restlessness, then, was the trouble, simple restlessness: home bored her. ‘Parbleu, but it is not comfortable in the least in there. I must apologize, I suppose, for speaking to you, but your appearance certainly indicated that you were in some sort of trouble, and you were becoming—pardon me—an object of comment to the passers-by. Would it be Thérèse?’ She shook her head. ” The hand lingered too long. . She wondered why he was so distinctive, so unlike other men, and it never occurred to her for some time that this might be because she was falling in love with him. If I had been your companion only, and not your master, I might very well have been content to accept you for what you seem. . "Don't you perceive, my dear Mrs. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. But though the breach was large enough to admit him below, he could not squeeze his bulky person through the aperture into the Red Room. “The very question, my dear sister,” she said, “tells me that I have succeeded. ‘He destroyed the papers?’ ‘That’s right,’ Roding said, throwing her a glance of frowning surprise, as if he had not rated her intelligence so high.
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