He was reaching wearily for some kind of buffer to his harrying conscience. “In Paris our lives were far apart, and we had seldom the same friends. Further on, there was a small chandler's shop, where Jack observed an old woman seated at the counter, attended by a little girl. Like the flaws of an old marble. The passion of pent-up speech compelled action of some sort. “I have had nothing since, and it seems a very long time.
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