" The mortal agony behind those eyes! And all the while he had probably loved his child. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek. Instead of which they walked sharply. You seemed to me to be slipping and slipping, and your face was white. Fifteen from forty is twenty-five. But I am here. And behind— there was Paris, memories of amazing things, memories which made his cheeks burn and his heart beat quickly as he sat there waiting for her.
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