All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. Paris, always beautiful even in the darkness, glittered away to the horizon. There's a letter for the head turnkey, Mr. “I know. All he will say is that she said so—as if anyone could believe a word the girl said. The plank hung over his head. She closed the book that she had been pretending to read and gathered her black umbrella and her backpack, a childish accoutrement she despised. "Few stay more than a day. ‘Laisse-moi,’ she threw at him, her brief attack of sobs already ended, although the trace of tears on her cheeks bore witness to its sincerity. He rose deliberately to his feet and confronted them.
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