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And, with a glance of malignant exultation, he quitted the vault, and locked the door. She sensed his acute frustration as he unzipped her raincoat while trying to kiss her. He—In fact, he—he locked me in my room. Mrs. The lights of the Champs Elysées and the Place de la Concorde, suggestive, brilliant, seductive, shone like an army of fireflies against the deep cool background of the night. Your history, your actions, nay, your very thoughts are better known to me than to your spiritual adviser.
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