" Spurlock's glance shot up, flaming again. Can’t travel alone, a pair of nuns. 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. She leaned forward, her chin in her palms, her elbows on her knees, and she set her gaze upon his face and kept it there in dreamy contemplation. That night in Paris I saw on the bills ‘Fatal Motor Accidents.
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