In the struggle her cap fell off. Monsieur could rely upon his special attention, and for the cooking—well, he had his customers, who came from their homes to him year after year. “I am bored,” she said abruptly. She looked at me as though I were some unclean thing, as though my soul were weighted with every sin in the calendar. And by monsieur le baron, of a disposition entirely unforgiving, I do not desire to be recognised in the least.
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