He allowed his voice to drip with sympathy. The sun shined weakly through brief pinpricks 90 in the thick cloud cover, the weather was brewing a storm. ” He shook his head. . He glanced downwards at the impetuous torrent, which he could perceive shooting past him with lightning swiftness in the gloom. Where can we sit down and talk?” He led her across the room towards a window recess, in which a tall, fair young man was seated with an evening paper in his hand. Instead, they lived a Bohemian existence, moving from patron to patron, city to city.
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