‘But I find you excessively rude, Gérard. For a time she looked at no more apartments, and walked through gaunt and ill-cleaned streets, through the sordid under side of life, perplexed and troubled, ashamed of her previous obtuseness. Capital swordsman. ‘Dieu du ciel, for what do you take me?’ ‘I don’t know,’ he threw at her. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying.
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