He walked through the misty September night to his rooms. He took a handful of almonds and raisins that she held out to him—for both these young people had given up the practice of going out for luncheon—and kept her hand for a moment to kiss her finger-tips. How could you draw the curtain aside which hides the great and holy places of life—you, who have never loved?” “You have become French to the core,” she murmured. “It was just an hour before teatime,” she remarked. "To be sure I will, my child. “I’m still new to them.
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