His eyes looked a little bloodshot to her; his face had lost something of its ruddy freshness. ’” “What did he say?” “What does any one say to an invitation to dinner point-blank? One tries to collect one’s wits. We two just love each other—the real, identical other—all the time. ’ ‘Parbleu, it is I who am the idiot?’ she scolded furiously, removing one hand and digging it into her sleeve. “Go on,” he said.
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