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Perhaps the Parisian atmosphere had affected him. “Aren’t you supposed to be in bed, pervert?” “Yes sir. Rank ingratitude, I call it. They had shared almost seventy five wonderful years there in nearly utter seclusion before it came time to move on. The houses they flitted to and from were glutted with hangers-on, servant/mistresses, and errant prostitutes. Her fancy dress, save for the green-gray stockings, the pseudo-Turkish slippers, and baggy silk trousered ends natural to a Corsair’s bride, was hidden in a large black-silk-hooded operacloak. Heaven forbid.
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