A sense of impending disaster was upon him. He had a quick, shrewd, merry eye, and a look in which duplicity was agreeably veiled by good humour. “We were good friends in Paris, weren’t we? You made me all sorts of promises, we planned no end of nice things, and then—without a word to any one you disappeared. I tried to have it out with him, but he wouldn’t have it out.
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