She rested her head upon his shoulder. "I've spoken. That Frenchie, that’s who she is. ’ ‘Can’t say as I’m sorry to hear you say that, missie,’ confessed the sergeant, on a relieved note, as he locked the front door of the mansion and pocketed the key. The street was deserted, no pedestrian school-goers walked immediately in front or behind them. She returned home through a world that was as roseate as it had been gray overnight. She was honest again.
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