“I have not left this apartment myself. ” She whispered to him. At the back of her mind there seemed always one irrelevant qualifying spectator whose presence she sought to disregard. Instinctively she knew—some human recollection she had inherited—that she must not disturb him in this man-agony. She met the keen grey eyes of a clean-shaven man, between forty and fifty, quietly dressed in professional attire. I had left Paris.
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