It was now whitening, hissing, and seething like an enormous cauldron. “There’s no one here except me. ’ ‘This, monsieur le major, is entirely your own affair,’ said the lady, haughty again. But in its stead—toward morning—there appeared another idea which appealed to him as sublime, appealed to the primitive conscience, to his artistic sense of the drama, to the poet and the novelist in him. The tropical dawn is swift. “What were you doing outside Miss Pellissier’s flat to-night? You were looking at her windows.
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