“I wonder,” she said, “why one writes him sentences like that? It’ll have to go,” she decided, “I’ve written too many already. His head was small and bullet-shaped, and he did not wear a wig, but had his sleek black hair cut off closely round his temples. Luck. In her usual style, she interviewed him for his life and was pleased that he liked nothing more than to talk about himself. Wood. Madame Valade was that kind of woman.
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