As the movie reached its predictable apex, she clutched his right knee in a careful imitation of fear. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. “Are you a special sort of clergyman,” she said, after a pause, and looking down her nose at him, “or do you go to the Universities?” “Oh!” he said, profoundly. When she judged that she must be nearly back at the library, she began to feel somewhat dispirited. It was a queer little bed-sitting-room almost in the roof, with a partition right across it.
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