“I hate you because you are the Devil! Rot in Hell!” She was shocked at her own accusation, how she had savored the words. It wasn’t anything splendid, you know. ‘Oh, peste,’ she cried out in distressed tones. I want to leave Paris to-day—this very day. He then arose, and, taking a few turns in the chamber, stopped suddenly before her. Primarily it was her own problem, and in particular the answer she had to give to Mr. A thickly-set, sandy young man, with an unwholesome complexion and grease-smooth hair, had entered the room.
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