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” “Did it come—in Paris?” “I do not know,” he answered. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself. At length, about three o'clock, as the first glimmer of dawn became visible through the barred casements of the round-house, the rattling of bolts and chains at the outer door told that some one was admitted. One could go to him and tell him one loved him. There were sidetables and a writing table, similarly buried in bric-a-brac, and the chair by the French doors could hardly be seen for blankets.
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