” Lucy begged. He hung precariously on the ragged edge, but he hung there. ‘Keep your distance! You dare to tell me I cannot refuse?’ He glared at the girl. Nothing but the publicity of the place and the recollection of that terrible constituency kept him from attempting some perfectly respectful but unmistakable evidence of his sympathy. I struck him across the face, jumped out and went back by train to Paris. What he needed was not a food but a flavour; and the cocoanut taste of the chestnuts soothed his burning tongue and throat.
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