Clotilde rushed out of the house, carrying her boy and tugging her girl by the ear. You disgust me. ’ ‘I have English a little,’ the girl offered, her voice shaking as she essayed a smile and sank into a curtsy. Every day in the year you will witness such scenes. A thin mist lay on the river, giving the few craft moving about in it a ghostly look. ‘You would like? And do you imagine that I will tell you?’ ‘Won’t you?’ ‘No, a thousand times. “I don’t think you see,” she replied, with tears on her cheeks, and her brows knitting, “how it shames and, ah!—disgraces me—AH TISHU!” She put down the tray with a concussion on her toilet-table. ‘I find this was excessively clever of Gérard.
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