Wood. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. Every word you utter puzzles me. “You are making your dress?” “Such as it is. He had done this a dozen times on the way from his office. There was a shrill cry, instantly succeeded by a deep splash.
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