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Ah me! those nights at the debating club, those evenings at the Chicards, those student's balls at the Chaumière, those third-class trips to Versailles and Fontainebleau, those one-franc pit seats at the Gaîeté and the Palais Royal, those little suppers at Pompon's and Flicoteau's how delightful they were! How joyous! How free from care!
A gown of Rose Pompon's hung gracefully over a pair of pantaloons, the legs of which seemed to come from beneath the petticoat.
A gown of Rose Pompon's hung gracefully over a pair of pantaloons, the legs of which seemed to come from beneath the petticoat.
But could you tell me where is the nearest post-office?" "Turn to the left, the third house, at the grocer's." "A thousand thanks." "I wager it's a love letter for your sweetheart," said Mother Arsene, enlivened probably by Rose Pompon's and Ninny Moulin's proximity. "Ha! ha! ha! the good lady!" said Rodin, with a titter.
But could you tell me where is the nearest post-office?" "Turn to the left, the third house, at the grocer's." "A thousand thanks." "I wager it's a love letter for your sweetheart," said Mother Arsene, enlivened probably by Rose Pompon's and Ninny Moulin's proximity. "Ha! ha! ha! the good lady!" said Rodin, with a titter.
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