He kept at it even on those nights when the monsoon began to break with heavy storms and he had to weight down with stones everything on his table. ‘Come, Jacques, mon pauvre,’ she uttered, and reached for the lad again, hardly aware of the muted sounds of running feet and much banging and crashing beyond the secret door. The lonely widows of robber barons found him irresistible and he was the guest of many a fine table. ’ ‘How shocking.
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