” She shook her fist ceilingward. “My wife. Fame of any sort was folly and she knew better. I would like to talk to you about this—soon. " "Leave you!" echoed the ruffian, with a contemptuous laugh; "—not just yet. ’ ‘I presume you were not with her in France?’ Kimble stared. She should leave sooner, but she just could not bear missing the event.
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