Part 2 The next morning was as dark and foggy as if it was mid-November instead of early March. ” So they went this time to the Rococo, in Germain Street, and up-stairs to a landing upon which stood a bald-headed waiter with whiskers like a French admiral and discretion beyond all limits in his manner. “I remember you now,” he said. The curve of his shoulders, the very angle of his feet, expressed relief at her apparent obedience. Fascination.
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