’ ‘This, monsieur le major, is entirely your own affair,’ said the lady, haughty again. There are cigarettes and magazines in the corner there. ’ He strode to the fireplace behind the leather-topped desk and addressed his own reflection in the mirror, wagging an admonitory finger in his own face. "Don't weep, my love," replied the lady, straining him still more closely to her. " The stranger said nothing, but hastily brushed away a tear. Her English was halting. He lived on the seventh floor behind a winding set of hallways that towered over her in their grayness. She had never dreamed of such decadence, never imagined that young people could be so happy and healthy. The man or woman who did something for nothing always excited his suspicions; they were playing some kind of a game. There was no one to be seen in the great hall.
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