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Updated: August 14, 2024
"Me voici" I said. "Put your ear to the key-hole, M'sieu' Jean," said the Machine-Fixer's voice. The voice of the little Machine-Fixer, tremendously excited. I obey "Alors. Qu'est-ce que c'est, mon ami?" "M'sieu' Jean! Le Directeur va vous appeler tout de suite! You must get ready instantly! Wash and shave, eh? He's going to call you right away. And don't forget! Oloron!
And God knows we did not only pity him, we liked him and if we could in some often ridiculous manner assist the Machine-Fixer I think we nearly always did. The assistance to which I refer was wholly spiritual; since the minute Machine-Fixer's colossal self-pride eliminated any possibility of material assistance.
And the Machine-Fixer, whose opinion of this blond putain grew and increased and soared with every day of her martyrdom till the Machine-Fixer's former classification of les femmes exploded and disappeared entirely the Machine-Fixer who would have fallen on his little knees to Lena had she given him a chance, and kissed the hem of her striped skirt in an ecstasy of adoration told me that Lena on being finally released, walked upstairs herself, holding hard to the banister without a look for anyone, "having eyes as big as tea-cups."
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