The latter no sooner beheld him than he dashed hastily into an adjoining room. You ignore me! That’s not a good way to treat your only friend. “Do you know,” she said, “that every one is remarking how ill you look. You are—horrible. Before her stretched blank spaces, dotted with running people coming toward her, and below them railings and a statue. Even her debt to him was a triviality now. She felt he would tell people the way, control traffic, and refuse admission to public buildings with invincible correctness and the very finest explicit feelings possible. Afterwards we started for a motor ride to a place outside Paris for déjeuner, and I suppose the man’s nerve failed him. But Miss Stanley took no notice of these things. Immediately the "boy" went forth with his paper lantern, repeating a cry as he ran—warning to clear the way.
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