” “Did it come—in Paris?” “I do not know,” he answered. He began munching his water-chestnuts—a small brown radish-shaped vegetable, with the flavour of coconut—that grow along the river brims. \"So John, are you two lovebirds going to the Junior Prom or what?\" He paused, smirking. But I had to know for sure. He was entranced as she walked towards him. On the right, stood a bulky figure, with a broken rattle hanging out of his great-coat pocket, who held up a lantern to his battered countenance to prove to the spectators that both his orbs of vision were darkened: on the left, a meagre constable had divested himself of his shirt, to bind up with greater convenience a gaping cut in the arm. “Of course I’m manager for this expedition,” he said, after an interval of self-examination.
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