. “The point is we’re not toys, toys isn’t the word; we’re litter. Thwart me, and I become your mortal enemy. ’ ‘Gérard,’ she said, giving the French version with a soft “g” and not quite managing the “l”. "You are a paragon of prudence and discretion," rejoined the woollen-draper, drawing his chair closer to hers. "You will not make it valueless in my eyes," he added, catching her in his arms, and pressing her to his breast.
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