Madame shrugged. It melted her heart. He was brooding over her, she could sense it, and the shadowy circles around his lovely dark eyes bespoke a terrible ongoing insomnia. I see that I am a beast—I beg your pardon, bête—and an imbecile, and an idiot. “I find it very hard to write this letter. " Upon which, he set off in the direction of the entry.
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