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Besides, it is nearly half-past eight." She nodded. "Yes. But Victor, you remember the Polish girl?" "Franska? Yes." "Well? And the pantomimiste, and Miss Belton, and Lady Paula " Joyselle started in the act of shaking scent on his handkerchief. "Of course I remember them. But what have they to do with Brigitte?" "Only this, Victor. The poor child is in love with you, vieux vaurien!
His ties wouldn't tie, he got new shoes fresh gloves every time he went to see her scent, a new kind, very expensive he sent her flowers by the cartload, and went every evening to see her act. "And how did it end?" asked Brigit, her throat dry and hot. She hated the pantomimiste. "End? My faith, my dear, it is of a simplicity, the end. You came." "I came " "Yes.
"And you wouldn't mind now, if " asked Brigit, her elbows on her knees, her chin on her hands. Madame Joyselle laughed. "Wouldn't mind? Oh, ma chère! Just before you came, he had a very bad turn it was an Italian actress a pantomimiste, with the most beautiful arms in the world, and the face of a vicious little boy. And he? Épaté.
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