‘Parbleu, I hope that I do not have many more times to come in this way to the house,’ she muttered fretfully. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. ‘You have no idea how dull the militia is compared to the Army. Empty, silly, coarse brutes. Her anger died and she eyed him. She took it up in her many-ringed hands and read it judicially.
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