‘Bête. She receded into the entryway, opening her palm and gesturing as if there were an imaginary red carpet rolled out for visitors. He ushered them with an amiable flat hand into a minute apartment with a little gas-stove, a silk crimson-covered sofa, and a bright little table, gay with napery and hot-house flowers. ” “Would you mind telling me,” Anna asked, “how long I knew you in Paris?” He looked at her sideways. Her husband was drinking in the tavern with the other guests. That’s got his nerves to rags.
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