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The tourist season would soon be at ebb, and it would be late in September before the tide returned. ‘And now,’ he said, drawing Madame to the seat, and contriving to sit close enough that his anatomy touched hers at several points, ‘let us talk about you, madame. ‘How do you know?’ ‘Exactly,’ pounced Roding bitterly. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. Everything proclaimed the mischievous propensities of the recent occupants of the chamber.
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