’ Her lashes fluttered. These little squares of coloured paper interested her mightily—hotel labels. Not my affair, of course, but I think we ought to teach them more or restrain them more. "Weep on, reprobate," cried the carpenter, a little softened. “What do you mean, hanging round with my wife?” he answered fiercely. Abruptly she desisted, recoiled, and turned and fled up-stairs. ‘You!’ ‘Yes, it is I, mademoiselle,’ he continued in his own tongue.
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