The figure of the girl upon it in plain black dress, standing with her hands behind her, was an undeniable and astonishing likeness of herself. The last piece was Scheherazade. Call her Miss Pellissier, eh? I tell you she’s my wife, and I’ve got the certificate in my pocket. ” “Did it come—in Paris?” “I do not know,” he answered. I was compelled to run away.
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