’ Le Petit Journal said that the man was dead. ’ His colour deepened. And next morning she attired herself with especial care and neatness, found his address in the Directory at a post-office, and went to him. It is what I have wanted, what I have meant all along. Nor Jacques. I'm a graybeard, an old bachelor; so I am accorded certain privileges. He was conscious of a peculiar pleasure in sitting there and thinking of those few hours which already were becoming to assume a definite importance in his mind—a place curiously apart from those dry-as-dust images which had become the gods of his prosaic life.
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