‘Bête,’ she flung at him. " There was a pause. She flung herself back into the bare little room, cold, empty, comfortless. “You might at least,” she murmured, “have invented a more romantic reason. Beside me on Anna’s table was a pistol. ‘Léonore, then?’ She shook her head animatedly, enjoying his attention. With this she now entered. I like the way you shared it.
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