Said Prudence, with commendable human kindness: "My sister and I are going on to Shanghai and Peking. I do not wish to return to Paris. ” She sat quite still looking at him. Sure of foot, noiseless, he made the veranda and paused at the side of one of the screened windows. She kept opening her eyes and looking at it. The evening breeze came; the bamboo shades on the veranda clicked and rasped; the loose edges of the manuscript curled. “I’m not so sure.
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