“You must come and see me some afternoon,” she said to him. ‘Parbleu, do you think he will run away? He has a bullet inside him, and it must be taken out. In a second the glass lay shattered upon the carpet. Accounts were now always where he could put his hand on them. And this idiot, he has threatened to arrest me and make them take me to prison. “Don’t come nearer!” she said. I don’t defend it. "No matter. I hate to see you spoil yourself with guys like me. Remember?’ ‘Parbleu,’ came from his still struggling victim. " And then he added, in an under tone, "Conceal yourself outside, and be within call. ‘Like you?’ ‘But I am not French. ” He dabbed with his paper-weight again, and spoke in an entirely indifferent tone.
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