The trees were graceful and brown, arching and fanning their golden leaves as if to shower with coins the pink-gold sky. “Look here,” he said, “I brought you here to make love to you. “Come,” he continued, “the world after all is a very small place. ” A dull flush burned upon his cheeks. . ‘Get you invited to a party where the French émigrés will be present? Nothing easier, dear boy.
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