“The horse’s knees are broken, and I am not sure that the man is sober. He was not quite sure whether, after all, he had been wise. She was aware of him—a silk-hatted, shiny-black figure on the opposite side of the Avenue; and then, abruptly and startlingly, he crossed the road and saluted and spoke to her. ‘Ah. " O'Higgins, bitten with disappointment, returned the photograph to his pocket. ‘Gérard!’ ‘Yes, it’s I,’ he said, and grinned.
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