The arrangement had been made by the town matchmaker, a frightening old oak of a man. ‘You do not use your head, Emile,’ she said flatly. ‘Would you care for some refreshment? A glass of wine, perhaps?’ ‘Nothing, merci, I do not remain,’ she answered, although she did not rise. ‘Go then. "Good bye, Jack! Keep up your spirits. She laid her hand upon his arm. Then, even as they stood there, the room was plunged into darkness.
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