"Yes … but dreadfully tired. Do you want me, too?” “Yes,” she whispered foolishly, in the throes of rapture. Gay, by his strokes of pleasantry, whether in his writings or conversation, never lost a friend. ‘Whither away, mademoiselle?’ he said grimly, ungently grasping her arm above the elbow. It was a work of no slight danger, for every instant a wall, or fragment of a building, came crashing to the ground. I must bless him before I die.
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