He waited for hours after dusk but she never arrived. He pulled on his pants, his yellow shirt with the ridiculous horse logo, his brown socks, and shoes. That’s where you go wrong. ‘This we will leave. I’ll give you grandpére!’ ‘But milor’—’ ‘Pardon!’ No longer master of his actions, the general lurched forward, waving his cane. Of course I knew all about him years ago, and he is exactly like everybody’s description of him.
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