She stood looking down upon him with dilated eyes. He kissed her neck, moving down to her breasts, trying to consume her with passion. As he pocketed it, her open palm reached out and slapped his cheek. \"Where are you going?\" She cried. They drove up into Paris in an open fiacre with a soft cool wind blowing in their faces, hand in hand beneath the rug. Every window, from the groundfloor to the garret had its occupant, and the roofs were covered with spectators.
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