Half the rooms empty. I didn’t think—I don’t know what I thought. We were only—les autres. No! That was impossible. Not us. She had dreaded the beginning of this hour. The Widow and her Child. Parbleu, but must she do this all through the house? Evidently she must, for not only could she not properly see the paintings and portraits that hung on the walls, but she was in imminent danger of bumping into the sheet-shrouded furniture. She put out her hands to avoid his embrace. “By Jove!” he broke out, “one tries to take a serious, sober view.
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