” They entered the place, a pleasant little café of the sort to be met with in the outlying parts of Paris. “Whither away?” he said, very distinctly in a curiously wheedling voice. This mitigated her remorse enormously. . ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door.
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