"The Chevalier shall hear of this," whispered the woollen-draper. It is not for myself I fear. Sebastian observed coolly, savoring the outline of Lucy’s feral figure hunching over Michelle’s gradually diminishing body. ‘And if it is true that you love me, I do not know why it is that you do not kiss me again at once. Think of those days in Paris. The softly glittering summer stars! She saw them shining over mountains of snow, over valleys of haze and warm darkness.
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