I want to get away. "You have lived over here?"—astonished. “You are not going out—this evening, I trust,” that lady asked, a trifle dismayed. The smells of skewered fennel, roast chicken, and broiled pheasant saturated the air, and she could smell other wonderful aromas about them. Only her face was clear, frail and delicate, almost flower-like, with the sad haunting eyes ever watching his.
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