‘So Leonardo has taught me. It was a motor accident—a fatal motor accident the evening papers called it. I step on my neighbour's feet, return and apologize because my acquired conscience orders me to do so; whereas you might pass on without caring if your neighbour hopped about on one foot. "Your answer!" cried Sheppard. But I will never—never return. I find you were excessively brave, mon pauvre. It was the same smell that she had in his memory, but now it was definite, palpable, like a perfume.
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