“We are Mr. "There, Sir," she added, unlocking the door, "you can go in. A dark mass of wreckage, over which hung a slight mist of vapour, lay half in the ditch, half across the hedge, close under a tree from the trunk of which the bark had been torn and stripped. “Of course, one lives differently in Paris, but then—Paris is Paris. ” “What is it that I should plan for in life?” “Life itself is glorious enough.
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