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I could not think what had led up to that scene on the terrace. I tried hard and soberly. I turned the 'chose vue' over and over in my mind, day by day, and the fan-stump over and over in my hand. But the 'chose a' figurer' what, oh what, was that? Nightly I revisited the cafe', and sat there with an open mind a mind wide-open to catch the idea that should drop into it like a ripe golden plum.
But this did not make the case less engrossing. Again and again I would take the fan-stump from my pocket, examining it on the palm of my hand, or between finger and thumb, hoping to read the mystery it had been mixed up in, so that I might reveal that mystery to the world. To the world, yes; nothing less than that.
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