He was in trouble and she could not help him; that was the ache in her heart. That is why I was so anxious to leave Paris. She had a bittersweet fragrance, like dusty books and honeysuckle. But I wanted to find out more, partly so I could share it with him. Both these ladies possessed considerable personal attractions. But, in spite of his general insensibility to such matters, Quilt could not help commenting upon the delicious perfume wafted from the numerous flower-beds past which they were driving. She leaned forward and addressed him.
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