“Garçon,” he said, “will you ask the gentleman at the next table if he will do me the honour of taking a glass of wine with me. At length, about an hour before dawn on the second day—Sunday—having spent the early part of the night in watching at the gates of the robbers' sanctuary, and being almost exhausted from want of rest, she set out homewards. I’ve a dread of love dropping its petals, becoming mean and ugly.
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