“We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. "The shoulder-clappers!" added a lady, who, in her anxiety to join the party, had unintentionally substituted her husband's nether habiliments for her own petticoats. But it is all over now, and presently there will be some one else. The nun on the threshold was of middle age and heavily built, her back uneven from toil and her hands roughened.
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