“I will come—with pleasure,” she said, “if you will promise to treat me as a new acquaintance—not to refer to—Paris—at all. He was always word-building, a metaphorist, lavish with singing adjectives; but often he built in confusion because it was difficult to describe something beautiful in a new yet simple way. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. Then he paused. And Charcam, fearful of another charge in his master's present uncertain mood, disappeared.
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