" The Wastrel rushed. He flipped the television off. “God in Heaven, Annabel!” he cried. “For one thing, Anna,” she remarked, “we had not the slightest idea that you had left, or were leaving Paris. She was nestled under his bedspread. ’ It had not before occurred to him, but this realisation fuelled the general’s growing conviction that he was being imposed upon in some way. Evidently in the flower of his age, he was scarcely less remarkable for symmetry of person than for comeliness of feature; and, though his attire was plain and unpretending, it was such as could be worn only by one belonging to the higher ranks of society. Then she uttered a strangled, ‘Espéce de bête!’ and burst into tears.
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